


Girl Surrounded By Monsters

by celestialskiff



Series: Found Family [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Childhood Memories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Phil, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Fitz, Little Jemma, Little Skye, Loneliness, Mommy May - Freeform, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Platonic Cuddling, Skye's van, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, bed wetting, security blankets, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1698809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson is the best parent ever. Which is lucky, because Skye really needs someone to look after her. Jemma could also use some comfort and care. Non-Sexual Age Play and hurt/comfort involving Skye and the team. Please read the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beerbad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beerbad/gifts).



> This fic will loosely follow the events of season one, giving Skye plenty of space to be little. 
> 
> Huge thanks to beerbad who suggested I watch Agents of SHIELD and write ageplay about it. What a good call.

**Prologue: The Battle of New York**

_Skye_

Skye was glad when Tony Stark appeared back through the portal. Of course she was. She was glad he was alive, glad he'd saved the day. 

But she was mostly glad he'd won her the laptop. 

“Hand it over!” she crowed, fingers itching to touch it. She'd been making do with her phone and Internet cafés for far too long. 

Glenn's lips were twisted. “You're not going to hold me to that, are you?” He was leaning into her space. She could smell the booze on his breath. The dorm was crowded, but no one was paying attention to them. 

Skye was pretending to be drunk too, but she'd been nursing one beer for hours. She allowed him to lean into her, before sticking up her hand up between their faces. She could almost taste his breath in her mouth. “Of course I'm going to hold you to it. You'd hold me to it, wouldn't you?”

“But I only asked for a date! And a kiss!” Glenn said. 

“Ugh, and you think that's not a big deal? You're only losing a laptop, I'd lose all my dignity. And sense of self-worth.” 

“She would, you know.” Tish was standing behind Glenn, grinning at Skye over the top of his head. “A bet's a bet, Glenn.” 

Tish was low-level cocaine dealer who hated technology, and she'd once spilt green tea on Skye's phone, but Skye was grateful for both her grin and her support. The party was loud: Skye could sometimes revel in the noise, but right now it made her skin crawl, especially since the adrenaline was gone. New York was saved. She wanted out of here, with her laptop. 

“Tish knows what's she's talking about,” Skye said. 

“You don't need it anyway,” Tish said. “You have two.”

Skye coughed. “You have _two_?”

“His Dad works for Apple or something,” Tish said. “He's rich: don't let his hair fool you.” 

They were all rich in here, Skye thought, even Tish. She snaked her hand closer to the laptop. “You just don't like losing to a girl,” Skye said. 

“He's a terrible loser, in general,” Tish said. She squeezed Glenn's shoulder. “Go on, Glenn. Skye lives in a _van_. It'd be an act of kindness.”

“By choice!” Skye cut in. “I live in a van by choice.” 

Glenn wrinkled his nose. “You always smell really good for someone who lives in a van.”

“Well, you always smell pretty terrible for someone who lives next to a shower,” Skye said. She was tired of this. “Come on. Hand it over. I've got things to do.”

“You? You don't have things to do, you're a bum,” Tish said. Then she added, “Like me!” 

Glenn's fingers skittered over the laptop's surface. It was so new and shiny. Skye's mouth almost watered. Then he reached down, grabbed the adaptor, and shoved the whole lot over to her. “You will go out with me,” he said. “You know that? No one can resist the Glenn.”

Skye grimaced. “Did you just put a 'the' in front of your name?” 

She hugged the laptop to her chest. Thank you, Tony Stark, she thought. Thank you for being good at saving the world. 

There had to be so much information buzzing around about New York. She needed to hack into the SHIELD frequencies again. 

“You're not really going, are you?” Tish said. “If you think the party's lame, we can go back to my dorm room?” 

Skye had done that before. Tish had plied her with alcohol and got her hand up Skye's shirt. It had been OK, but Skye really did have things to do. 

“Another time,” Skye said. “Thanks, Tish.” 

She rushed out without saying goodbye to anyone else, and before Glenn could change his mind. Screw you, Glenn, you and your dad who works for Apple, Skye thought, hugging the laptop close. Closer. 

Her van was parked a couple of blocks away. She got in and drove, wanting to be away from the party, from all of them. The streets were busy. People were wandering around, freaking out, crying, laughing, looking at pictures of the Hulk, of the aliens, of Iron Man. Some people were saying it was all hoax. Skye wished her van were smaller, so she could glide more easily through the crowds. 

It was getting dark by the time she found a place she wanted to stop. She pulled into the alley behind her favourite diner, and got into the back of her van with her laptop. Part of her was itching to see what it could do, to start looking for more information on New York, on Tony Stark, on everything. But her blanket was calling to her. She always felt sick, her skin crawling, after parties like that. They were a good way to get free food and information, but she was always an outsider. 

She pulled the curtains, trying to make the van feel as secure and comfortable as possible. Then she changed into soft pyjamas, and a pull-up. Because her bad dreams often ended in bed-wetting, pull-ups were an unfortunate necessity. In her van by herself, she didn't really feel bad about it. She curled up in her nest of cushions, pressing her special blanket against her cheek. Then she booted up the new laptop, but instead of diving into secure channels, she found some Bert and Ernie clips on YouTube. She slid her thumb into her mouth and curled up on her side. 

She finally began to feel safe. 

_Jemma_

“Get it together, Simmons,” she said to herself, gripping the sink with her hands. The defence of her doctoral thesis had gone well. She knew it had. Everyone had smiled at her, even laughed at her jokes. They looked impressed. And yet here she was, in the bathroom afterwards, trembling. Her shirt felt damp under her arms, she thought she might throw up, the room seemed to be spinning very slightly. 

Her supervisor wanted to meet her, to celebrate, he'd said. Jemma wrapped her arms around her stomach, breathing through her nose. It's over now, she told herself. You're fine. 

And then, from very away, the thought: I just want my dummy. 

*

The bar was closed. Her supervisor didn't meet her. She went back upstairs to her flat, and found Leo. He was watching a live news feed on his laptop, and he barely looked up. He didn't ask her how her defence had gone. Rude, she thought. I asked you. 

“Simmons, Simmons, are you seeing this?” he said, grabbing vaguely for her wrist. She looked over his shoulders. And then looked more closely: carnage, aliens. 

“Everything's going to change,” Leo was saying, leaning over the screen. “Everything. SHIELD won't be the same any more. We won't be the same any more.” 

“God, I want to dissect one of those,” Jemma said, perching on the chair nearest to him. “Can you imagine? What must it be like inside. Wait...” She made a grab for the screen, trying to pull it closer. “Is that Dr Banner? Is he back?” 

Leo swatted her hands away. “Get your own laptop, Simmons.” 

*

They stayed up all night. Jemma had barely slept the night before too, and she was shaky with exhaustion and nausea. She rested her head on the cheap formica table, her hair in a puddle of tea, watching Leo pace around the room. 

They hadn't been there, they were nowhere near New York, but it still felt like something momentous had occurred. Like they'd fought a battle together. Jemma's chest was tight with adrenaline, and Leo's eyes were too bright. “Did you see what Agent Romanov did? What the Hulk did? What Stark did?” he kept saying, and Jemma could only say, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, I saw.” They were having the same conversation over and over, but it still seemed important. 

The news feed was still playing. Reporters, happy faces, broken skylines. “If we were field agents, we'd be in there right now. We'd be going through that technology,” Leo said. He was wistful. 

“We're not cleared for anything but supervised research,” Jemma said, standing on shaky legs. A long time ago, she'd dreamt of hugging her bunny, of curling up in bed and forgetting. 

Both their bedrooms opened off the living room. She staggered over to her door, and sat on the bed. Ben Bunny was on her pillow and she tucked him under her arm. She opened the make-up bag on her bedside table, and took out her dummy, too. 

A long, long time ago, she and Leo had shared secrets together. They'd only been in first year, but they'd already been a unit. FitzSimmons. Everyone talked about them like they were one person. Jemma loved it. She'd never been part of anything before. They'd sat on her bed together, one grey February day, and Jemma had said, “Sometimes I miss my dummy from when I was little. So much. It's ridiculous, isn't it?” and she'd ducked her head, laughing, hiding her face from him. 

“Nah,” Leo said. “Whatever makes you feel good.” He lowered his voice slightly. “I still have a bear. From when I was little.” 

“Sometimes I still watch C-Beebies,” Jemma said, still not looking at him. 

“Cartoons are great.” Leo's voice was easy, lighter than hers. 

They watched some together. And one day, a few weeks later, when Jemma was curled on her side in bed, afraid the essay she was trying to write wouldn't work, aching with cramps, tired of the campus, Leo dropped a plastic package on her bed. 

Two dummies, decorated with crocodiles. “Nothing wrong with wanting comfort,” he said. 

Now Jemma had a whole collection of dummies, and Leo never teased her about that. They still snuggled up together and watched cartoons. Now she took out an old blue dummy, decorated with a grinning crocodile, and curled up on her side, popping it between her lips. 

She felt, finally, like she might relax. 

Leo burst in. “Simmons! Are you seeing this interview with Agent Romanov?” 

Jemma blinked up at him, sucking slowly. Leo stared at her. “Aren't you a bit old for that?” he said. “We're practically agents.” 

Jemma jerked the dummy from her mouth, hiding it in her hand. She felt a sudden, frantic urge to cry. You're just exhausted, she told herself. You've barely slept. She pressed her face against the pillow. “Tell me in the morning,” she said. 

“It is the morning,” Leo said, laughter in his voice. 

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, tight, tighter. _Aren't you a bit old for that?_ The world had changed, but it was seven normal words that made her feel she wasn't safe any more.


	2. Chapter 2

1994

Rain splattered against the windows. Mary Sue watched the long tongue of water lick down the glass. The windscreen wipers were working extra fast, squeaking and grinding. Mary Sue hugged her special blanket to her chest, watching their progress. 

Last week she might have found it cosy to be shut in this car with Larch. Larch was supposed to be her new Mom, and the car was comfortable and smelt like cinnamon, and Larch had buckled Mary Sue in before they started driving. But Mary Sue knew that now they were driving through a rainstorm to St Agnes's, and it didn't feel cosy at all. 

Larch had wanted her to put her special blanket in her bag along with her other things, but Mary Sue clung to it, pressing the soft corner against her face. Since Elizabeth Peters had stolen her teddy back at St Agnes's, the blanket was all she had. 

_Will you miss me?_ Mary Sue wanted to ask, but the words were heavy in her mouth, and she didn't say them. She just watched the rain, and listened to the squeak-grind-squeak of the windscreen wipers. She sucked her thumb. Larch always yelled at her to take it out of her mouth. At St Agnes's, they were usually too busy to notice. 

Larch doesn't like me, Mary Sue thought. It's because of the monsters. 

She woke up frightened every night. Strange beasts with necks too long for their bodies and too many teeth thronged around her bed. She screamed, and the bed would be wet, and Larch would come in and yell at her. She always tried not to scream when she saw the tooth-shadows on the walls, but she always did. She couldn't stop herself. 

I'll be better. I'll learn not to make a sound, Mary Sue thought. Then next time they won't send me away. 

2013

Skye sat up in her bunk. Her breath was sharp in her chest, and her heart hammered. She scrubbed her face fiercely. You are a big girl, she told herself. You are _not_ going to cry. But she'd been telling herself that since she was five, and it didn't keep her from crying. 

She'd been waking up wet and frightened for as long as she could remember. It never seemed to get any better. There were monsters in her dreams—and OK, that was more realistic now than it had once been, since there really _were_ monsters—and they were trying to find her. In her dreams she hid from them, knowing they wanted to devour her. 

The bed was wet and cold, and so were her clothes. She needed to get up and sort things out. But she felt little and frightened, and she pulled her special blanket out from under her pillow, and pressed it against her face. It felt safe. 

She was shivering. Get it together, Skye, she thought. You're on your own. 

No one ever came to help. When she was too little to fix her bed herself, she'd had to wake someone up—usually one of the nuns, or the other carers at St Agnes's. They were always tired and annoyed at being woken, and Skye had learnt to look after herself as quickly as she could. 

It never stopped her from wanting someone to come and look after her. 

Other girls, proper adults, grew out of wetting the bed. Skye knew that—she'd been told it often enough. But she never did. As a teenager, she'd started to spend her meagre funds on pull-ups to keep the bed dry. It was humiliating to buy them from the scrawny kid in the drug store, but it was better than waking up wet. 

She hadn't brought any on the plane. Carrying a box on board would be embarrassing, and she'd hoped she wouldn't need them. The voice in her head hissed, Do you never learn, stupid girl? 

It was warm on the bus, but she was still trembling very slightly. Get it together, she told herself again, and pulled the damp sheets off the bed. She hid her special blanket in the night-stand and gathered her clammy sheets in her arms. She wasn't even completely sure where she should do laundry, but she figured there had to be a way. 

It's only your second night and you've already humiliated yourself, she thought, squeezing her hands so tightly in the sheets that they ached. 

It was dim outside her room, but no one seemed to be up. She walked as quietly as she could to the kitchen area. What if she woke up Ward? Or worse, May? 

She looked under the cabinets, but couldn't see where the hell to dump her dirty sheets. Surely there was a washer on board somewhere? Maybe there was a laundry room? She felt cold, and small, and alone. Stupid girl, don't you dare cry, the voice in her head hissed, but there were already tears on her face. Her hands trembled, and she stifled a whimper. At least if she woke up wet in her van, she'd have a pull-up on and her blanket to cling to and she wouldn't be afraid of anyone finding her. 

She shouldn't have come here. She was too little and stupid and afraid. 

“Are you OK?”

She spun around, caught, arms full of sheets, tears running down her face. At least it's only Simmons, Skye thought. And then: what the hell am I going to say to Simmons? They should kick me off the bus for being such a baby. It's probably in SHIELD protocol somewhere. No bed-wetting babies allowed. 

“Oh, Skye,” Simmons came forward. She didn't sound like she was about to get mad. “Were you looking for the washing machine?”

Skye nodded. 

“It's down the corridor. You stay there, I'll take your sheets.” Simmons sounded completely calm, like this was no big deal. Skye wondered if she was just waiting for the right moment to make a joke. 

“But they're...” Skye coughed. “They're wet and gross and...”

“The laundry's hard to find. Just give me a second, OK?” 

She was more than a second. Skye waited, trembling, humiliated, not sure what to do next. She wanted to go back to bed and hide. The mattress was wet, and she was still wearing her wet pyjama pants, and she just wanted to hide somewhere dry and safe. 

The kitchen was dimly lit, but Skye felt like monsters could be hiding in every shadow. Stupid. She clenched her fists, worrying someone else would walk in. 

“There, they'll be all clean by morning,” Simmons said, her voice full of forced cheerfulness. 

Skye scrubbed at her face with her hand. “You must think I'm pathetic now, huh?”

“Not at all.” Simmons lowered her voice, “We all have something we find embarrassing. It's no big deal, Skye.”

“It is a big deal. It happens almost every night, and it's humiliating, and I'm cold and wet, and I'll never be able to look you in the face again...”

Simmons scrunched her nose up. “It's not that bad, Skye, trust me.” She nibbled at her lip. “Do you want some clean pyjamas?”

Skye nodded. She suddenly wanted Simmons to hug her. She wasn't used to someone looking after her like this. “I need to wash,” she whispered. 

“While you do that, I'll fetch something dry for you.” 

Skye was still sniffling in the bathroom. She washed her wet legs quickly in the tiny cubicle, telling herself not to cry. She slipped her thumb into her mouth briefly, and sucked it. That helped a little, but then she was embarrassed again because she was doing stupid, childish things, and she shouldn't. 

There was a knock on the door. She opened it, and Simmons' arm snaked in, holding out some clean clothes. Skye dried off and pulled them on. They were a little too long in the leg, but she kind of liked that. It made her feel like she was wearing an older sibling's pyjamas. 

She expected Simmons to be gone when she came out, but she was waiting for her. “Do you want a warm drink?” Simmons asked. 

Skye snuffled. “That's probably the last thing I need.” 

“OK.” Simmons was staring at her a bit too intensely. Skye wanted to hide her face in her hands. She felt so vulnerable: she wished she could make the feeling go away. She shouldn't want to make a fort out of bed sheets and suck her thumb, and hide. 

“You don't have to look after me. I may be humiliated, but I'm not a baby.”

“You don't have to be embarrassed though. That's what I want you to know.” Simmons chewed her lip. Her fists were clenched, and for the first time Skye realised she looked anxious, too.“I could show you something really embarrassing of mine, then we'd be even?” 

“Um.” Skye didn't know why that would help, but she wanted to do whatever Simmons said. She felt a bit less afraid now she was with someone else. 

Simmons led her into her bunk. She gestured Skye in first, and Skye sat on the bed so Simmons had enough room to step in and pull the door closed. Simmons sat down next to her. She smelt nice: like cookies, Skye thought. 

Simmons coughed, and then nibbled at her thumb-nail. “OK, this is much worse than anything you do. But you'll keep a secret, won't you?” she said, speaking so quickly the words tangled together. 

Skye couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than wetting her pants. She wrapped her arms around her torso and nodded. “Cross my heart.” 

Simmons pulled a little box out from under her bed, opened it, and took out a make-up bag from inside. She handed the bag to Skye. The contents felt strange in her hands, hard and soft, not like make-up at all. And when Skye opened it, she saw a collection of pacifiers, five or six, all different shapes and colours. 

Skye chewed her thumb. Her heart was thumping anxiously her chest, but if this meant what she thought, maybe she wasn't so alone on this bus, after all. “These are yours?” she asked softly. 

“Yes.” Simmons' voice was very small. “If I have a bad dream or I'm stressed or... for no reason, really, I suck one and it helps so much.” She took a deep breath. “See, that's much worse than anything you could do.” 

Rather than speaking, Skye slid her thumb into her mouth, and hooked her fingers over her nose. She sucked softly, before pulling it out. “See? I do it too. You just have cuter accessories.” 

Simmons made a soft, happy sound, almost like a giggle. “Really, Skye?”

“Yes, really. It's the only thing that makes me feel better. And back in my bunk I have, um. I have a little blanket. A security blanket, from when I was a kid.” 

Simmons pulled something out from under her pillow. A careworn rabbit with long, floppy ears. “We're the same.” 

Skye smiled, and stroked the bunny's ears. “Do you wet the bed, too?”

Simmons shook her head. “Not since I was little.” She added quickly, “It's very understandable that you do, though, Skye! I've read about it, there's a big correlation between a stressful upbringing and nocturnal enuresis. It's not your fault.” 

“Thanks, Simmons.” The did help, weirdly. It helped that Simmons didn't judge. Skye handed Simmons back the collection of pacifiers, and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was thinking about her bunk, the deep shadows full of ghosts and fear. In a small voice, she said, “I don't... I don't really wanna go back to bed by myself.” 

“You can stay here,” Simmons said at once. “It'll be like a sleepover! I never really had those when I was little, other girls didn't like me.” 

Skye nodded. She could relate to that. Simmons put her hand on Skye's arm, and then said, “You're cold!” 

Skye wasn't really cold, but she was still shivery from her dreams. Simmons gathered up the blankets from her bed, and gently arranged them around Skye's shoulders. She handed her the rabbit, and Skye wrapped it in her arms. It was a good size to hug. 

“You can come in here any time,” Simmons said. She scooted back in bed, leaning against the wall, giving Skye room on the outside of the mattress. Skye really wanted Simmons to hug her, but she wasn't sure how to say it. 

“Have you always... sucked your thumb?” Simmons asked. 

Skye nodded. “As long as I can remember. What about you?” 

“I tried to stop. But my dummy, it was the only thing that made me feel safe and calm. My Mum threw all mine away, but when I was older I got more.” 

“I probably would've done the same, if someone could throw my thumb away. One of my foster moms put hot sauce on it, but that wore off. And another one put this gross gunk on my nail. I kept sucking my thumb, though, it was the only thing that helped.” 

“I know,” Simmons said. “I feel so scared and... little all the time, and having a dummy helps so much.” 

Simmons looked small and scared as she said it. Skye reached over and squeezed her wrist. Simmons was fiddling with the make-up bag, and Skye said, “You can suck one, you know. I won't mind.” 

“It feels so strange to do it around someone else. I've been trying to keep it a secret for so long.” 

Skye nodded: she could understand that. Simmons quickly selected a pacifier, and then reached over Skye so she could put the bag on her night-stand. Skye felt her warmth against her back. It was almost like a hug. 

“I'm glad you found me,” Skye said softly. “I get so scared at night: it's pathetic.”

“I get scared too. I had a nightmare,” Simmons said. “I'm glad you were there when I was up.” 

Skye scooted closer to Simmons: it didn't take much, they were tight on the bunk as it was. “We've got to look after each other, huh, Simmons?” 

“I'd like that,” Simmons said softly. She was playing with the pacifier, but seemed too shy to put it in her mouth. 

Skye lay down carefully on her side, facing away from Simmons. She was sleepy, and she wanted to curl up in Simmons' warmth. She wasn't used to having someone to share with. There was still a breath of space between them, but the bed was so small it took a conscious effort to maintain it. She felt Simmons shift, too, and then her warmth against Skye's back. It was wonderful to be so close to someone else. She felt protected. Skye scooted backwards, closer, and then she felt Simmons' arm go around her waist, just as she'd been hoping. 

“I'll be your teddy-bear,” Skye whispered. “Since I'm holding your rabbit.”

“He's called Ben,” Simmons said, very softly. Her voice was slightly distorted: Skye thought she might have her pacifier in her mouth. 

“Ben's a good name.” She snuggled as close to Simmons as she could, and felt Simmons' warm arms clinging to her. Before she slid her thumb into her mouth, Skye said, “You can wake me up if you have a bad dream.”

“You too,” Simmons replied. 

*

After that, they hung out whenever they got the chance. “Can I call you Jemma?” Skye asked one evening. “Phil makes me call him Coulson, but it's different with you.” 

“I hope so,” Jemma said. “If you find out Agent Coulson likes dummies, you'd better tell me.” 

They were sitting next to each other on Jemma's bed, pressed close, mostly because they liked the contact, but also because it was the only way to fit. Skye's laptop was on their knees: they'd been showing each other TV programmes from when they were kids. 

Skye giggled. “I'm trying to picture Coulson with one of your pacifiers, but I can't.”

“Maybe he has a special blanket like you.” 

Skye tried to picture that too. “I think Coulson's just a grown-up,” she said. 

Jemma leant her head on Skye's shoulder. “Anyway, you can call me Jemma. It's nice. No one else does.”

“Yeah, you SHIELD types are so formal.” Skye clicked on the link Jemma pointed to, and another TV show popped up. “ _The Clangers_?” Skye said. “Seriously, everything you liked when you were child was super weird. No wonder you ended up working for an organisation that specialises in weird.” 

“Isn't all children's TV supposed to be surreal?” Jemma said, fingering her bunny's ear. 

“I dunno, I just watched _Sesame Street_ ,” Skye said. 

“And little red talking monsters are completely normal...”

*

That night, Skye woke up wet again, feeling sick and trembly. It was better than the first few times she'd woken on the bus though, because she knew her routine now. She stripped the bed, went to the bathroom to wash and change, and went to the laundry room. 

She wished someone would hold her hand and help her, but there wasn't anyone she could ask. It wasn't fair on Jemma to need her every night. 

Next time we stop, Skye promised herself, I'm going to buy pull-ups. That'll help. 

She was actually looking forward to that, it was pretty embarrassing. She was twenty-four, and she was looking forward to a new pack of diapers. 

She felt small and lonely, and her room was full of shadows. When she was little, shadows had always had teeth, and she tried really hard not to see teeth now, but sometimes they were still there. 

On her way back from the laundry, she slid Jemma's door open, hoping she could curl up next to her in bed. Jemma probably wouldn't mind. She might be startled, but then she'd just sigh sleepily and snuggle against Skye. 

Jemma's bed was empty. Across the hall, Skye could see Fitz's door was open, his bed empty too. They were probably down in the lab, doing science together. She nibbled her lip. FitzSimmons really were two parts of a unit: it wasn't fair to feel jealous of that. Besides, she couldn't start needing Jemma too much. It was dangerous to need anyone too much. 

She almost went back to bed, but her room looked felt too shadowy. She went back to the kitchen, telling herself she'd feel better soon. 

“You're up late, Skye.”

It was Coulson. 

“Not as late as FitzSimmons,” Skye said. “They're up to some wild shenanigans in the lab.” 

“I gave them a project to work on late last night. They should get some rest, though.” 

“Maybe you should go down there and send them to bed,” Skye said. She hugged her arms around her chest. She felt small and exposed, like maybe Coulson could tell what had just happened to her. 

“It's tempting,” Coulson said, “But they're both supposed to be adults.”

_Supposed to be._ Skye wondered what he'd say if he knew about her and Jemma. “You're the boss though, A.C.” 

“And why aren't you in bed?” he said. It was a parental kind of voice: the same tone the nuns used to use on her. It made her skin feel itchy. 

“Couldn't sleep,” Skye said. “Too many monsters.”

She wanted to cover her mouth with her hand, then. She hadn't meant to say 'monsters'. 

Coulson looked at her more closely. She'd forced her mouth into a half-smile, and her hands were loose by her sides, but she still thought he could see through her. He could see the dirty sheets in the washer, her bad dreams, her special blanket: all the little, embarrassing things about her. 

“I can't sleep either,” Coulson said. “Want some hot chocolate?”

Skye smiled. “You're such a softie. Yeah, I'd love some.” 

“Just don't tell anyone,” Coulson said. She liked that: he didn't deny his kindness, and it was something just between themselves. She sat on the kitchen counter, watching him heat milk in the microwave and stir in chocolate powder. He didn't turn on the lights, but she didn't mind the shadows when she was close to him. 

When she was a little kid, she used to have fantasies all the time about someone coming to rescue her. Usually a kind woman, who'd look like her, the same eyes and hair, and who'd be able to pick her up in her arms, and keep her safe from everything. 

Sitting near Coulson in the kitchen, she found herself having exactly the same kind of daydream about him. Except he kind of already had saved her. 

She sipped at the hot chocolate. “Get a lot of bad dreams, Coulson?”

“Some,” he said. “It's probably a side-effect of being an agent.”

“Good to know.” Skye swung her legs, feeling small on the counter. “Maybe I'll get new SHIELD dreams to replace my old ones.”

Coulson nodded. He looked tired, wrinkled around the edges. She wondered why he really was up so late. It was hard to imagine Coulson having a bad dream, waking up shaky and vulnerable like her, or even Jemma. “You know, Skye, if you ever want to talk...” 

That was too much to cope with right now. She dug her fingernails into her palms. “You're too nice, A.C.,” she said. “I'm going to sleep now.” 

She took her cup of chocolate and rushed to her bunk. It was too hard to have Coulson look at her kindly. She wanted to throw herself against him, tell him she needed his comfort. 

She sipped the hot drink trying to make its warmth enough to soothe her. 

*

Skye always felt like she'd missed some chapter everyone else had studied on how not to let your bladder humiliate you. It was maybe an orphan thing. There was some things you just didn't learn when you grew up like she had, things that everyone else knew implicitly. 

Sometimes Skye was so sure she was going to have an accident in the van when they were driving back to the bus. She'd be sitting right next to Jemma or Ward, and the drives were so damn _long_ and she just didn't know if she was going to be able to hold it. She couldn't imagine anything worse than the team seeing her with wet pants. But just because something was humiliating didn't mean it wasn't going to happen. Sometimes she wished she could wear pull-ups on long trips like that, just in case. But that would be taking things too far. She was supposed to be an adult. She was training to be an Agent of SHIELD, for god's sake. 

She bought herself more pull-ups the next time they stopped near a drug store. It was less embarrassing, in the long run, than trying to do laundry at night, though both options were mortifying. It was awful, this wanting comfort thing, and needing to suck her thumb, but the fact that she still wet her pants was much, much worse. 

Fitz had wanted to come with her when she went out, but she'd managed to distract him. It was a glaring hot day, and Fitz never did well in warm weather. She told him she'd pick him up some ice-cream on her way back. The nearest drug store was crowded, full of people buying sun screen and teenagers trying on make-up, and Skye wove through them all, looking for the most embarrassing aisles. 

They didn't have the adult pull-ups, but she found some kid ones she knew would fit her. I can buy a more expensive brand now, Skye thought. That's definitely what a normal SHIELD agent does with their first pay-check: they buy some really up-market diapers. 

She found a selection of pacifiers too, and tried to pick some out for Jemma. It would show Jemma how much she supported her. But there were so many, and Skye felt a little lost, looking at them all. 

Someone coughed behind her. Phil. 

Oh god, Skye thought. Come on, Earth, swallow me up right now. Just do this one thing for me. 

“Good sneaking skills there, A.C.,” Skye said. “I had no idea you were here.” She was gripping the package of pull-ups in one hand, wondering how to make it disappear. Maybe he's just think it was some new brand of tampons? Men were clueless, right? 

“Just getting some shaving cream,” Coulson said. He was looking over her shoulder, at the pacifiers. “They're cute,” he said. “I think they used to be plain white when I was a kid.” 

That was the last thing she'd expected him to say. “You were given a cheap brand,” Skye said. “They were always white at St Agnes's too. The nuns bought them in bulk.” 

“I like the little animals better,” Coulson said. “Are you nearly done here? We can go back to the bus together.”

Skye shifted her weight. If she went to the cashier with him, he'd definitely notice the pull-ups. “Just got a few more things to pick up.”

“I'll wait for you by the door.”

“I promised Fitz I'd get him ice cream.”

Coulson patted her arm. It was a tiny, casual touch, but it somehow felt momentous to Skye. Maybe he had seen the pull-ups and he didn't care. He said, “Ice cream sound pretty good to me too.” 

*

Coulson ate ice cream with Skye and FitzSimmons, and then he went off to do important grown-up SHIELD stuff, Skye guessed. She and Fitz watched some movies together, and then dragged Jemma back out of the lab so they could play a board game. “You like homework too much,” Fitz said. He had a way of looking at Jemma like she was the most important person in the world. Skye wondered if he knew that. 

“But this is fascinating!” Jemma said. She was staring at a computer simulation of some bacteria. 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Bacteria just eat and breed. Skye and I are humans—we can play board games too.” 

Skye was soothed by their voices and jokes, and she didn't feel so anxious when she went to bed. Plus, she always felt a lot safer when her pull-up was on, snug and soft against her butt. She liked knowing that even if she had an accident, it wouldn't matter. 

She still woke up half-way through the night, wet and anxious. She changed and told herself there weren't any shadows with teeth, but she still ended up going down the corridor to find Jemma. 

“Fitz?” Jemma murmured sleepily when she opened the door. Skye could see a pacifier resting on the pillow by her cheek. 

“It's me, Skye.” 

“Oh, OK.” Then Jemma sat up. “Fitz doesn't join me in bed, or anything like that. Sometimes he has physics ideas he needs to tell me late at night.”

“Well, that's adorable,” Skye said. She twisted her fingers together. Jemma looked so calm and normal, even with the pacifier. 

“Are you all right?” Jemma asked. 

“I had a bad dream. Again. As usual. I'm sorry to wake you up.” 

Jemma budged over in the bed. “Do you want to stay here?”

Skye chewed her thumb. Maybe she should just go back to bed and leave Jemma alone? Jemma would get sick of her if Skye kept needing her. “Yes,” Skye said, and squirmed beneath the covers. 

Jemma's chin dug into the back of her neck. Jemma was almost too warm against her, and Skye's ear was on a damp patch on the pillow, where Jemma had been drooling. Jemma slid her arm around Skye, elbow digging into Skye's ribs. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but Skye was very glad she was there. 

“Skye?” Jemma said after a moment. “Do you think Agent May has bad dreams?”

“I think bad dreams would be way too scared of Agent May to bother her,” Skye said. 

“I wish I was Agent May,” Jemma said, and then sighed sleepily. She nuzzled into Skye's hair. 

“I wouldn't be any good at being Agent May,” Skye said. “I like hugs too much.” 

“I dare you to hug Agent May.”

Skye laughed. “You're crazy when you're sleepy.” She yawned. “I think Coulson's the cuddly parent anyway.” 

“Skye...” Jemma murmured, and then she stopped herself. 

“What?” 

“Just. I'm glad you're here.”

Skye didn't know what to say. She found Jemma's hand and squeezed. “We've got to look out for each other.”


	3. Chapter 3

1997

She knew her name wasn't Mary Sue. She just didn't know what her real name was, yet. She tried different names out, to herself, in the dark. She collected names from grave-stones and phone directories and classmates. She'd thought about being Robin or Alex or Kit or Maxine. She wrote them in her diary: she ended each entry with a different name, and it was like she had a whole book of letters from different people. 

She didn't have her diary any more because Jake Malone in the dorm below hers at St Agnes's had stolen it from her. He'd torn out some of the pages, and read others out loud, the ones where she'd admitted her worst secrets. 

It was safer not to have a diary anyway. She was always trying so hard to be tough, to show them all that she wasn't pathetic Mary Sue who cried at night and wet her pants. In books, orphans were always self-reliant and ran away and found a pet elephant or sailed down the Mississippi or went to Europe and married a king, but she didn't do any of those things. She'd run away a few times but it was scary at night, and she always came back, cold and dirty and afraid. 

Orphans in books always wanted things: to find their family's stolen treasure, to reunite with a lost relative, to kill the dark wizard who'd murdered their parents. She just wanted a foster home where she felt safe, and someone to give her a hug. It was pathetic. If only she wanted more. 

She decided to be Kit today, not Mary Sue, tough Kit in her patched jeans who climbed walls and stole candy from the discount store and didn't care what anyone thought. Kit, whose Dad had been an astronaut and did well in school without even trying, and never, never hid under the bed and sucked her thumb. 

Except right now she was under the bed, and she was sucking her thumb, and her Sister Brenda was yelling for her, and no matter how hard she pretended she was Kit, she was stuck being herself. 

2013

Coulson knocked on the roof before he got into the car with her, so she had time to pull her thumb out of her mouth and look adult. It was tough, though, because she didn't feel adult. She'd been Skye for years now, and it was the perfect name, but it was perfect because it was still _her_. She wasn't trying to be feisty Kit or clever Maxine or funny Robin. She was just Skye, and being Skye came with feeling little and being a bit pathetic, even though she'd got better at covering that up. 

“It is peaceful in here,” Coulson said. 

He leant his head back. Skye pulled her legs up to her chest. She wasn't usually alone with him at such close quarters, and it reminded her how much she wanted him to like her and how worried she was about getting it wrong. She nibbled at her thumbnail and then pulled her thumb away from her mouth because that was dangerous. Sometimes her thumb slipped inside her mouth without her permission. 

“I always like small places,” Skye said. “I used to hide under the bed when I was a kid.” 

“You weren't afraid of monsters under there?” 

“I was. But I was more afraid of monsters outside.” Skye nibbled her lip. “Don't tell me under-the-bed monsters are a real thing, too.” 

“Well, if they are, as a SHIELD trainee you should be able to cope with them.” Coulson was smiling, his eyes shut. 

“No, thank you,” Skye said. “Megalomaniacs I can deal with, but nothing under the bed.” She was remembering being eight and hiding further and further in the darkness, hoping she'd disappear. “Actually, maybe I am a monster from under the bed. Maybe monsters are just scared kids who hide so long they stop being kids and start being monsters.” 

“You're not a monster.” 

“You don't think I'm scary enough?” Skye hugged her legs tight to her chest. She wanted to curl into the smallest lump possible, like when she was a kid, maybe vanish here in the dark car. 

Coulson's eyes were still shut. He looked tired. “I'm afraid you're not very scary at all.” 

“I always hoped, when I was in my van and it was dark and bums were trying to break in, I hoped that I'd eventually get so scared it would turn around inside me, and I'd start being scary instead. But it never happened, I was always just me. You guys are going to teach me how to be scary, right?” 

Coulson's eyes were open now. He was looking at her searchingly, but he just said, “That's exactly what we're going to do.”

Skye nodded. She rocked herself slowly, back and forth, hugging her legs tight to her chest, and Coulson's mouth twitched, and suddenly his arm was around her shoulders: a warm weight, pulling her towards him. She went stiff, because she wasn't expecting it. 

He tried to pull away, but she moved with him, suddenly desperate for the contact. “Sorry, I'm not good at hugs, but it doesn't mean I don't want you to hug me.”

“I shouldn't,” he said, and she could hear his voice against her cheek now, because she was pressed against him. “It's not professional.” 

She felt small beside him, like she could be completely contained in his arms. “I'm sure you could hug the rest of the team too, A.C.,” Skye said. “If you want to treat everyone the same. Simmons would like it. I'd warn May first, though.” 

Coulson laughed softly, a rumble against her ear, and Skye pressed her head as close into his shirt as she could, smelling clean cotton and silky soap. 

It was nice to be so close to someone and then she wanted to cry, suddenly, completely unexpectedly. It was horrible. The tears felt like a knife in her throat, and she wasn't going to be able to stop them, and Coulson was going to be freaked out by her, and she'd be all alone again, and why did she have to ruin anything?

She stuffed her thumb in her mouth, because it sometimes stopped her from crying. She sucked it for a few seconds before realising what she'd done, and realising that was probably _worse_ than a few tears. You're an idiot, Skye, she thought, and as she thought it, she felt Coulson's arm tighten around her. He brushed her hair back from her face, his cool fingers on her forehead, and she felt her eyes well up from the tenderness of that gesture too. 

“It's OK, Skye,” he said, and then, “It's OK, sweetheart. You don't have to pretend around me.” 

She didn't know how to reply. She felt a faint whimper begin in her throat, but she held it in and sucked and sucked her thumb, and she fisted her free hand in Coulson's shirt, and clung to him. And the best thing was, he was holding on to her right back, like he was never going to let go. 

*

Skye found that now that she'd had a little taste of comfort, she just kept wanting it, more and more. That first evening, Coulson had held her until her legs were cramped and her mouth was dry around her thumb, and she still just wanted to stay safe in his arms, but he'd let her go, very gently, and said, “We should eat with the rest of the team.” Then he'd swallowed, and put his hand against her cheek, and added, “You can come find me, if you need me.” 

She didn't know how to follow him up on that. He kept acting exactly the same around her, calm and kind and confident, and she didn't know how to break through Agent Coulson and ask for the man who'd held her. 

So she tried to tell herself she didn't need him. 

*

She loved Jemma, but it wasn't the same. Jemma was maybe the best friend she'd ever had, but Jemma was little too. At night she didn't imagine Jemma helping her into her pyjamas and pull-up and tucking her under the covers. She pretended Coulson was there, wishing her a good night, and brushing her hair back from her face like he had that one time. She imagined the pillow was his chest, and she could hear his heart-beat against her ear. 

He'd said she should ask, if she needed him. But she couldn't exactly go up to him and say, “I need a hug because I'm such a damn baby,” could she? 

So she settled for pretending. It was small and safe in her bunk and she could hear the plane moving beneath her, and she had her special blanket against her cheek, and she wasn't scared. She could drift off like that, easily. 

Waking up was the problem. 

Most nights, she woke up trembling and wet, but this night was worse than the others. She woke with her pulse drumming in her ears and nowhere was safe and she was being chased by the shadows with teeth and there was some really important secret she had to keep but she didn't know what it was and everyone was mad at her and she was so alone... 

She was out of bed before she even knew where she was, and she was trapped against the door for a moment because she forgot it slid rather than opened outwards. 

She couldn't be on her own. She often went to Jemma when she felt like this, but suddenly that didn't seem safe. The small, frightened part of her had taken over, and that part of her thought she'd just bring the monsters to Jemma's room. It was better to leave Jemma alone. 

Skye did stand in front of Jemma's door, trembling, pressing her special blanket to her face. She hadn't let go of it for one second since she'd woken up. She told herself to go in. It was better than going to find Coulson, less humiliating in the long run. 

But somehow the decision had already been made. She was remember his warm arms in the car, the times he'd told she could come and find him if she needed him. She stood, shivering, and then ran on, past Jemma's room, past Ward's, along the perimeter of the Bus, tears running down her cheeks, every shadow waiting to kill her, and she was sliding open Coulson's door before she could stop herself. 

He was in bed, but he wasn't asleep. He leapt up when he saw her. “Skye!” he said, startled, and the sharp tone of his voice made her crumble further. 

Words wouldn't come out of her mouth properly. She wanted to reassure him that it was just a bad dream, but she was crying instead, saying things about monsters and secrets and people chasing her. His arms were around her suddenly, warm and firm, and she collapsed against him, crying harder at the very moment when she should've stopped crying. But she'd been holding it all together as best she could, on the way here, all the fear and loneliness, and now that he had her, she couldn't stop crying and shaking. It was the worst kind of crying, totally undignified. Her stomach heaved like she was going to throw up. 

She felt him draw her to the bed, almost carrying her, and then she was on his lap, and he was rocking her, and he'd pulled his blankets around her. She clung to her own special blanket as tight as she could and pressed her face against his neck, her wet, snotty face. He didn't push her away, and she let him rock her and rock her and rock her. 

When the worst of the tears were over, she started to be humiliated again. She hadn't even noticed her pull-up was wet until now, and then she thought, Oh God, I'm sitting in Coulson's lap in wet pants, and she wanted to disappear into the floor. 

“A.C., I'm so sorry,” she whispered into his neck. Her voice was still distorted from crying. 

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, and he reached over to the night stand and took a handful of paper tissues. He wiped her face with them, his fingers very gentle, and finally held one to her nose and said, “Blow.” 

She knew that wasn't something people did for adults, tell them to blow their nose, but she didn't care. She wanted to just do what he told her. She felt better with her face dry, and Coulson didn't seem to have any plans to put her down, either, and for that she was very grateful. She leant her head back on his shoulder and sucked her thumb softly. It helped, too. 

Coulson kissed her forehead. “Do you have bad dreams often?”

Skye nodded. “Most nights,” she said, but she didn't quite take her thumb out of her mouth so the words came out kind of indistinct. 

Coulson looked really sad, so Skye quickly added, “Not as bad as this though.” 

“I haven't been looking after you properly,” Coulson said. “You haven't come to find me before.” 

Skye shut her eyes, because he was looking at her like she was precious and it was kind of overwhelming. Also what he'd said implied that he might want her to come back and that was amazing, but it was also really scary. 

Skye slid her thumb out of her mouth. “I think this is maybe a bit beyond the call of duty.”

“Not to me.” Coulson was rocking her again, just a little, and she liked it. “You are very important to me, Skye.”

That made her want to start sobbing against. She grabbed her blanket and rubbed a corner of it against her cheek instead. 

“This is nice,” Coulson said, touching the blanket. She usually hated anyone else to touch it, but it was OK when it was Coulson. “Does it have a name?”

Skye shook her head. “It's just a blanket.” 

“Have you had it a long time?”

“Since I was little,” Skye said, and then she hid her face against his neck again. “I'm such a mess, Coulson. You guys should get rid of me. I'm not worth anything.” 

Coulson sighed, and she felt him tense against her. “Skye,” he said. “I'm never going to punish you, but I don't want you to talk about yourself like that. As an Agent of SHIELD and as a person, you are doing wonderfully, and I am so, so proud of you.”

“I wet my pants,” Skye said very softly. “I'm wearing a diaper, like a _baby_ , and it's wet, and I'm horrible, and...”

“Shh,” Coulson murmured again.. He kissed the top of her head again. “I know. It's OK. It doesn't change anything.”

“I just... I just don't feel like I'm very good at being an agent or a grown-up or anything. I just want... I want you to look after me.” Skye's breath hitched again. She slid her thumb into her mouth. 

“Needing me to look after you doesn't make you bad,” Coulson said. He stroked her back, and Skye pressed her head against his chest and listened to his heart. 

After a long time, he said, “OK, sweetheart, here's what we're going to do tonight. I'm going to get you changed into a nice, dry diaper, and you're going to sleep here. And tomorrow you and I are going to sit down and figure out a way for me to look after you so you feel better and safer. How does that sound?”

It sounded so good Skye couldn't even speak. She just nuzzled at his chest and nodded. 

*

It was weird to go back into Coulson's office the next day like everything was normal. He'd woken her that morning, and she'd gone back to her own room to change, and she'd eaten toast with Jemma and made jokes with Fitz and done her usual training routine. She felt tired and a bit spaced out, like she was walking through a dream. 

She didn't realise how tense she'd been until she was alone with Coulson again. She was still warm from her work-out, but she suddenly felt trembly. Coulson was finishing up something on his laptop. 

“I can come back later,” she said, and he looked up and smiled. 

“Do you need a hug?” he said. 

Skye nodded, and surprised herself by running around the table towards him. He gathered her in his arms again, and she had no idea how she could need a hug so bad when she'd had one from him just this morning. 

“Aren't I squashing you?” she said, snuggling into his lap. 

“Nope,” he said. “Impossible.” 

“I'm sure I could if I tried.” Skye rested her head against his shoulder. She was afraid of getting used to this, of starting to need it, instead of just wanting it. 

“Now,” Coulson said. “I don't think you're very good at asking for help, are you, sweetheart? Even if you need it.” 

“I'm used to doing things on my own.” Skye wondered if Coulson would mind if she sucked her thumb, just a little. 

“So I want you to come find me every evening before you go to bed, and we'll talk about the day, and I'll give you a hug, and help you get ready for sleep. Understood?”

He probably wouldn't mind. Skye nodded her head and started sucking her thumb, hooking her fingers over her nose. 

“You're not in charge of buying pull-ups any more. I'll deal with that. And when you wake up wet, you come find me, OK?”

Skye squirmed anxiously. “I wake up wet almost every night.”

Coulson kissed her forehead. “If my Skye wakes up scared and wet and needs someone to look after her, I don't want her to feel like she has to handle it on her own.”

“What if you get too tired and start hating me?”

“That isn't going to happen,” Coulson said. 

Skye sucked her thumb thoughtfully. “My foster Moms used to say that and then they changed their minds.”

Coulson hugged her tighter for a second. He was quiet, and then he said, “We can revise these rules in two weeks. If you're still uncomfortable with them, we can change them.” 

Skye nodded. She thought she should probably get off Coulson's lap soon, but she felt so safe and close. “Are there any other rules?”

“Not yet, Skye. We're just starting out, aren't we?”

“Should I still call you Agent Coulson?” 

“In front of other people, yes. When it's just us, you can decide what to call me.” 

She already knew what she wanted to call him, but she didn't say it. She nodded, and let herself be held for just a little longer. 

*

Skye spent the rest of the afternoon with Jemma, since she wasn't on duty. Jemma was working on some kind of experiment with connective tissues. It sounded pretty gross to Skye, but she liked watching Jemma in the lab, because Jemma was always so busy and efficient. 

Part of her wanted to lay everything out for Jemma. After all, Jemma already knew she wet the bed, and she knew Jemma's secrets. She knew Jemma wouldn't judge. But at the same time, it felt private, something just between her and A.C., and after all, it was his secret too. So she just held the knowledge inside herself, warm, thinking over the rules he'd made for her. 

“You look happy,” Jemma said. 

“Training's going well, I guess.” 

“I love it when that happens. When you're working hard, and everything just clicks into place.” Jemma leant over the microscope. 

“Is it going well today?” Skye asked. 

“No, it's horrible. I'm ready to give up on it,” Jemma said. “But if I can't solve something like this, what on Earth do I have two PhDs for?” 

“To make other people feel stupid?” 

Jemma sighed. “I'm the one who feels stupid today, trust me.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” Skye said. “We could go... relax.”

They usually used the word 'relax' to describe what they did together privately, which was basically just curl up and watch cartoons on Skye's laptop and indulge their oral fixations. 

“I have to work,” Jemma said, but she was clearly tempted. 

“Fitz's busy annoying Ward. And there's nothing too urgent. Come on, you look stressed.” 

Skye didn't understand why she felt so fragile today, but she did, and she couldn't bother Coulson again because she'd already demanded way too much of his attention, and anyway, she did think some time off would help Jemma. And she didn't feel up to doing anything other than watching TV. 

Jemma smiled. “It does sound nice.” 

“You tidy up here, I'll get my laptop set up in your room,” Skye said. 

In her bunk, Skye pulled off her pants and put on one of her pull-ups. It wasn't like she was going to use it, just sometimes having one on made her feel so much safer, and right now she needed that security. She thought maybe it made her pants bulge a little when she put them back on, but she was wearing a long shirt so it was mostly covered up. She grabbed her laptop and her special blanket. 

She sat down on Jemma's bed and queued up a couple of episode of _Roobarb and Custard_ , which was a weird British cartoon Jemma really liked, and some _Adventure Time_. She got Ben Bunny out from under Jemma's pillow too, and gave him a quick hug. She found the make-up bag where Jemma kept her pacifiers and put it on Jemma's table. 

Jemma really did look tired when she came in. “I think you push yourself too much,” Skye said. 

“I don't work nearly hard enough,” Jemma said, and she looked anxious about it. 

“Are you kidding? It's like you're addicted to studying,” Skye said. “Ben misses you.” She held out the bunny to Jemma, and Jemma gave him a hug. 

They settled down side by side on the bed. They pretty much had to cuddle to fit onto the narrow bunk, but Skye knew they both liked that. It was nice to be close, to feel like someone cared about you. “Can I ask you something really personal?” Skye said, fiddling with her blanket. 

“Of course,” Jemma said. She was just getting her pacifier out of her bag. Skye always thought she looked really cute with a pacifier.

“Do you ever want someone to... to take care of you, like you really were little?” 

Jemma hugged Ben tight to her chest. “Sometimes?” she said. “I've definitely thought about it. But it's nice, just having you around. I never thought anyone would accept me like this.” 

That made Skye sad. She wrapped her arm around Jemma's shoulders. “If anyone teases you about this, they're a jerk, and I'll beat them up for you.” 

Jemma laughed. “You lot from Ops, you're a scary bunch.” Then, just before she put her pacifier in her mouth, she said, “Can we watch Roobarb and Custard first?”

“I knew you'd say that. I still think this show is weird, though.”

“It's a classic,” Jemma said, voice blurred by her paci. She leant her head on Skye's shoulder, and Skye stroked Jemma's hair, like Coulson had done for her. She figured Jemma deserved to have someone who would look after her, too. 

*

She woke up wet again that night, and it was suddenly horribly embarrassing to go and find Coulson like she'd promised. He'd been so nice to her before bed, making sure she felt comfortable, and giving her as many hugs as she asked for. Wasn't that enough?

But she was wet and cold and her mind was full of bad dreams, and she'd _promised_. She sat in bed, arms wrapped around her knees, her blanket pressed to her nose. She kind of felt like maybe there _were_ monsters at the end of the bed. Or that maybe she was a monster and that was why no one wanted her around. 

Except that was stupid. A.C. wanted her, and so did Jemma, and Fitz liked her, and May and Ward at least tolerated her. She wasn't a monster. 

So she swung her legs out of bed and gathered up her blanket and a clean pull-up, and carefully slid the door open. The hall was dark. Why was everything so much scarier in the dark? If she didn't move soon, she'd be frozen here, cold and afraid. She could remember so many times from when she was kid, standing at the door to her room, wet, too afraid to walk down the hall, too afraid to walk back to bed. Stuck. 

She wasn't going to be stuck this time. She started running, past the other bedrooms, along the hall, to Coulson's door. 

She pushed it open carefully. His lights were off, but he seemed to wake up as soon as she opened the door, so maybe he hadn't been properly asleep yet. 

He sat up and said, “Come in, Skye.” 

She realised she was panting, but she was shivering a little too. She walked around the bed, and sat on the edge, next to him, and he hugged her. “Are you wet, sweetheart?” 

She nodded. “I brought a change, though.” 

“Want me to help?”

She thought about it, and then nodded again. Yes, she did want him to help. She could do this all on her own, but Coulson knew how to look after her, and she felt small and cold and she wanted him to make everything better. 

He was deft but gentle, helping her out of her clothes and into the dry pull-up. She thought he must have done this before, for someone else. “Your poor little feet are cold,” he said, rubbing them. He put her wet pull-up into a pail he must have organised specially for this, and went to wash his hands. He had an en-suite, because his room was pretty fancy. 

Skye watched while he moved around the room. She popped her thumb into her mouth and rubbed her blanket against her cheek. He sat next to her on the bed, and pulled the covers back. “Do you want to sleep here?” 

She was really glad he wasn't going to send her back to her own room. She didn't think she could cope with walking that scary hall again, or trying to drift off in her own bed. “I was hoping you'd say that,” she said, and he lay down beside her, and arranged them so she was resting her head against his chest. She sucked her thumb and listened to his heart, and shut her eyes. 

“There,” she heard him say, as she was drifting back into sleep, “Telling me what you need isn't so bad, is it?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after S01E11, The Magical Place

2003

It was dark in the kitchen, but Sister Nicholas was standing at the window, her head haloed by the moonlight. She didn't say anything as Skye walked over to the washing machine and shoved her sheets into it. Anyone else would've clicked their tongue and said, “Again?” or asked if she was OK. Sister Benedict would've laughed and said in when she was a girl they'd made her sleep in her wet sheets and that had cured her soon enough. 

Skye didn't want to go back to bed and be on her own. Long lines of moonlight bisected the room, but the places between were too dark. She'd pulled on a sweater over her clean pyjamas, but she was still shivery. She stood by the washing machine, trying to make up her mind what to do next. 

“You can put the lights on, you know,” Sister Nicholas said. 

The florescent light made the room more obviously what it was: a long, industrial kitchen. It had looked almost like a home in the moonlight. Skye blinked, and covered her face for a moment, before she got used to it. 

“I'll make you toast.” Sister Nicholas went to the breadboard, and cut two slices of stale white bread, and slid them into the long toaster. She didn't ask Skye whether she wanted toast, but the was OK. Sister Nicholas always made toast. 

She poured Skye a glass of milk, too, and made tea for herself. Skye hated milk, but she didn't complain. She sat at one end of the long table where the kids usually had breakfast and dinner. 

“You were late back today,” Sister Nicholas said, as she set the milk and toast with honey in front of Skye. 

Skye picked at the crust. “Detention.”

“Again?”

“Michael Kerr said I was a pissy-pants baby and I stank and nobody would ever love me. So I punched him.” She bit into her toast. 

“You usually get your revenge in more subtle ways,” Sister Nicholas observed. 

Skye kicked her legs against the chair. She remembered when her legs didn't reach the ground from this chair, and she remembered when she was so small it was hard to get up here at all. She said, “I don't want to go on this new foster placement.” 

“Why not?”

“Because they'll just send me back.” Skye tore her toast into little pieces, getting her hands sticky in the process. “I'm never a good fit. I'll start to get used to it, and then I'll be back here. And I'd rather just be here. Anyway, who the hell wants to foster a fourteen-year-old when they could foster a proper kid?” 

Sister Nicholas slurped her tea. She didn't say anything for a while. The other kids called her The Vulture because she was small and round, with a fierce expression and a long nose. She never yelled, but everyone knew not to mess with Sister Nicholas. New kids were sometimes scared of her, but Skye knew better. 

“You must get sick of this place,” Sister Nicholas said. “Lord help us, we try, but it's not a real home.” 

It wasn't. There was no disguising what it was: a place built to house as many kids as possible, running on too little money and too much faith. But still, “It's all I've got,” Skye said. “I'm sick of hoping. I'm sick of wanting.” 

She felt her throat tighten. Even now, she cried too easily. She was thinking of the last place she'd felt safe. The lady she'd wanted to call Mom. What it was like to want something, bad, and not get it. 

“See it as a holiday, then. They'll have a better computer than we do, and fewer kids fighting over who wants to use it.” 

Skye chewed her lip. The computers here were all donated, and they were terrible. Skye had set them all up in the basement, piecing them together, fixing their problems. She helped Mrs Clancy in the office too, with all her software hiccups. She enjoyed that. Mrs Clancy called her indispensable. 

“I guess that would be nice.” 

“It would. Now, drink your milk.” The others always told her not to have fluids after 9pm, but Sister Nicholas never bothered. Like Skye, she seemed to think there wasn't really anything to be done about the bed-wetting. 

Skye sipped at it half-heartedly. “Is this the time when you ask me if I've been saying my prayers?”

Sister Nicholas clicked her tongue. “Do I ever ask you that? You're fourteen now, it's your decision.” 

Skye guessed she should've preferred that, but somehow it was different when Sister Nicholas asked her to do things. She wanted Sister Nicholas to say she should pray, and be a good girl. Skye didn't want to decide on her own. 

Sister Nicholas hardly ever made physical contact, but she reached over and patted Skye's shoulder, before she stood up. “I still pray for you, though. Finish up and go back to bed. School in the morning.” 

Skye nodded, but she stayed, long after Sister Nicholas had left, until the sky turned pale and pink and the moon had faded and the babies downstairs started to wake up. 

2013

She'd found him. She'd found Coulson, attached to a machine, pale and beaten and begging for death—but she'd found him. Skye clung to his hands, shaking with the joy and fear thrumming through her body. 

On the drive back to the plane, she decided she didn't care that May, Ward and FitzSimmons were there. Coulson was sitting, pale and exhausted, next to her in the back of the car, and she curled up against his side, lacing her fingers around his hand. He smiled at her, and touched her cheek, though his hands... His hands were clammy and unsteady. 

“My head aches,” he said softly, and Skye put her hand on his forehead like he did for her. 

“I don't want to give you anything until I've checked you over in medical,” Jemma said. “I don't know what they did to you.” 

“It's OK,” Coulson said. His voice was calm, and that helped Skye. She leant her head against his chest, lightly, trying not to hurt him, but she could still hear his heart. _Daddy_ , she thought as she listened to each beat. _Daddy._

She knew she shouldn't cling to him like this, not in front of everyone, but she'd thought he was lost and she needed him so badly, and he wasn't telling her not to. He just touched her face and her hair. She stayed like that so long her neck cramped up, and her shoulders ached, and she realised she needed to pee, but it didn't matter, none of it mattered, because Daddy was here, and she was close to him. 

“We're nearly there,” Jemma said gently. Skye sat up stiffly. Coulson squeezed her hand. 

Jemma smiled at her, but Fitz didn't meet her eyes. “I hope you have some of the good pain meds in stock,” Coulson said, and Skye crossed her legs and tried to look grown-up. 

*

After that, she had to wait for hours to see Coulson alone again. They flushed the extra agents off the plane, and Coulson talked to Agent Hand, and then they had to get everything back to normal, and the whole time Coulson looked pale and shaky but he wouldn't go and lie down no matter what anyone said. 

Before bed, Skye took a long shower, washing off all the hours she'd spent having to be someone else. She put the leather jacket in her closet. It was cool, but she hoped she wouldn't need to wear it again. 

She put on one of the diapers Daddy had bought her for night-time. He usually helped her, and it was hard to get it properly taped up on her own, but she didn't want to bother him with it now. The diapers were thicker than the pull-ups, and they made her feel even more little. She put on her softest pyjamas, too, and picked up her blanket, and went to Coulson's room. 

She wanted to let him rest, but she couldn't sleep on her own, not tonight, not after everything. 

Coulson seemed to be dozing when she got in, but he blinked up at her. “Sweetheart,” he said, and his voice was croaky. “I meant to come and help you get ready for bed.”

“You're sick,” Skye said. “I did it by myself.” 

Coulson nodded, and then put his hand to his head. He looked so pale, but so much better than when she'd found him. “Do you need more pills?” Skye asked. 

“No. I feel pretty doped up. I'm worried I won't wake up if you need me.” 

“I won't wake you.” She nibbled her lip. “I put on one of my diapers, so even if I wet I won't need to change until the morning.” 

It made her nervous to admit that, but he just replied, “Good. You can still wake me, if you need something.” He paused. “Do you want to sleep here?”

She nodded, and wormed under the covers at once, curled up against him. “Thank you.”

“Oh, believe me, I want my little one here too,” Coulson said. She settled against him, head on his chest, and he stroked her cheek and her hair. 

“Am I squashing any sore parts?”

“Not at all.” 

They lay quiet. Skye listened to Daddy breathe. What if he'd stopped breathing? What if she hadn't found him in time? “Daddy,” she whispered. “It was so scary.” 

“I know.” He squeezed her hand so tight it hurt. She buried her face against him. 

“You're not allowed to die.” It sounded so stupid and childish, but she couldn't keep herself from saying it. The words came out choked and harsh. “Daddy, you're not allowed to leave me.” 

He pressed his lips to her forehead for a long moment. “It's going to be OK, Skye.” 

“Don't leave,” she repeated. “Everyone always leaves.”

“Not me. Not by choice. Not ever,” he said, and she clung to him as tight as she could, not caring that she might hurt him. He let her. 

It took her a long time to fall asleep. 

*

Phil was woken by two messages on his phone, and three new aches in his back. Skye was deeply asleep, curled up against his side, her thumb in her mouth, and a deep crease between her eyes. Phil disentangled himself from her slowly, careful not to wake her. She made a faint, mumbling sound, but stayed sleeping. He wished he could smooth the frown out of her face. 

He found May training, where he'd expected her to be. He sat stiffly, watching her. She didn't acknowledge him at all. He wished he was as quick and strong as she was; he felt old and in pain today. 

“I'm not just here to watch,” he said, after some time of silence. 

May didn't say anything. 

“Skye and I...” he began. 

“You don't have to explain.”

“I do; I need your help.” 

She stopped at once, and looked over at him. “What has she done?”

“It's nothing like that.” 

She turned away and went back to punching. He watched the lines of muscles in her arms, flexing and flexing. “I need you to look after her for me today.” 

Another punch. “Why?”

“I need to talk to someone. About what happened to me.” Silence. “I don't think she's up to being independent today. She was so scared.” 

“Does she know you're leaving?” 

“No.” 

“Tell her.” May began stretching her legs. She sighed. Phil waited. He wanted to talk more, to explain to May properly what he was feeling, why he was doing this. But he didn't need to. She knew him too well. And it was better, with May, to let her think. 

At last, May said, “Tell her, and then tell me what her routine is.”

“You'll look after her?” 

May raised her eyebrows. Phil nodded. 

He wouldn't trust anyone else with Skye. 

*

She was still asleep when he got back. He was glad: he didn't want her to wake and find herself alone. He lay down next to her, his muscles suddenly demanding he stretch out. He meant to wake her right away so they could talk, but he ended up drifting for some time. Skye eventually rolled over, half awake, and snuggled up against him again. 

“Baby,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “How did you sleep?”

She nuzzled at his chest and didn't say anything. Then at last she whispered, “Fine.” She was rubbing the corner of her blanket against her nose, back and forth. She looked small and young, and he was struck again by how vulnerable she was, and how much he wanted to protect her. He knew what she'd done for him when he'd been in the hands of Centipede, and he knew she could look after herself, but he didn't want her to have to. He hated to leave her today, but he needed to know what the doctor who'd operated on him would say. He needed to understand what he'd remembered. 

He patted her butt gently. He could tell she was wet, but he didn't say anything. He thought she might be drifting back into sleep. Her thumb was in her mouth. 

“It's going to be time to get up soon.”

Skye fisted her fingers in his shirt. “No.” Her voice was slurred around her thumb. 

“No?”

“Don't want to. Want to stay here with Daddy.” 

Something inside him melted every time she said that. He knew Skye needed boundaries, but he couldn't imagine ever saying no to her, especially when she called him Daddy. 

“You can stay with me, but I think you need a change, don't you? And maybe some breakfast.” 

“I have training,” she said, yawning. 

“Yes. But I need to talk to you first.” 

“OK.” Skye shut her eyes, nuzzled at his neck. 

“I have to go and do something by myself today. It's very important...”

Skye went stiff and her thumb came out of her mouth. “I don't want you to leave.” Her voice was small. 

“I need to go, I'm afraid. But I'll be back tomorrow, and I've asked May to look after you tonight. You don't have to be big if you don't feel up to it. In fact, I don't think you should be.” 

Skye sat up. Phil missed the contact at once. “You told May about us?”

“Sweetheart, she already knew. It's important that she understands what's going on with the team.” 

Skye wrapped her arms around her knees, staring at her hands. “But it's private!” 

Phil tried to touch her hair, but she flinched away from him. “It's hard for you to pretend to be big all the time. May understands.” 

“I _am_ big,” Skye snapped. “I'm only _pretending_ to be little! And I can stop, if it's not convenient!” 

“I didn't say that.” He'd been stupid. He should've known this would upset her. But instead he'd been sure she'd be comfortable with May, just because _he_ was. “I don't want you to be anything you don't feel.” 

Skye curled in on herself, looking smaller, even as she told him she was big. “I'm going to clean up, then I'm going to train, and you can leave, and it doesn't matter, I'll be fine.” Her words came up tangled together, her eyes big and wet. 

“No,” Phil said. He took her hands, and didn't let her flinch away. The last thing she needed was to leave and feel she had to be independent. “I want you to sit in here with me for five minutes. I want you to sit quietly and think, and if you want to leave after that, you can.” 

She looked like she was still going to run out. “That's an order from your Daddy,” Phil said. “Now, go and sit on the edge of the bed and take five minutes just to think.” 

*

Skye lasted two minutes before she was crying. It was so _stupid._ She'd woken up happy, and then Daddy had said he was leaving, and none of it was _fair_ and she wasn't ready for May to know. She wanted so much to be grown up and not to need any of this. It reminded her of being little in St Agnes's and going to the syrupy cloying nuns because they were the ones who hugged her and cleaned up her scraped knees, and she needed that more than anything. Even though she hated them because they were only _pretending_ to care, and might push her away if she was upset at an inconvenient time. 

Except it was worse than that because she loved Daddy, and she needed him, and she wasn't ready for him to leave, and she was wearing a wet diaper and she felt _so_ little and what if he didn't want her any more? May wouldn't want her either. She'd be happy to throw her off the plane. And then Skye would be all alone again and she _couldn't_ do it. 

When she started crying, Daddy put her blanket in her hands and patted her head and said, “Just three more minutes to cool off, baby.” 

His voice was as tender as always, and she pressed her face into the blanket and clung to it with both hands. It helped, but it was also scary because it reminded her of when this blanket was all she had, and she didn't want that. She didn't want to be alone any more. Looking after herself was so hard. 

She felt the little hiccuping sobs deep in her chest. She'd always been good at being happy and making jokes and having fun, but she'd also always been a crier. They'd always known that in school, and in St Agnes's, they'd always known it was as easy to make her cry as it was to make her laugh. 

“I'm s-s-sorry, Daddy,” she whimpered. “I didn't mean it.” 

Then his arms were around her. “You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't punishing you. I just wanted to give you some time to think.”

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know.” Daddy brushed her hair gently back from her face, and dried her eyes and nose with a tissue. “I know. I wouldn't go unless I had to.” He rested his chin on top of her head. She snuggled her blanket in her arms. “Now,” he said. “Can you trust me to know what's best?” 

“You mean about May?”

“She's looked after little ones before, and I trust her, and I don't want to leave you without an adult.”

_Then don't go_ , Skye wanted to say, but instead she pressed her cheek against Daddy's shirt, and nodded. 

*

Watching Coulson leave was even harder. She'd trained all morning, and hung out with Fitz and Jemma, and she'd been able to keep her mind off it, but seeing Coulson pack up his things and talk to May and get out the car was too much. She watched him, hugging herself, holding herself back. She wasn't going to run to him and tell him to stay. She _wasn't._

Then he said, “Skye, I need to see you for a moment,” in his even, SHIELD agent voice, and they went to her bedroom. He sat beside her on her bed, and Skye ended up with her head in his lap and his fingers in her hair. 

“I've got to find out more about what I learned with Centipede. About Tahiti.” 

“I know,” Skye said, and she did know. “I'd have to find out too.”

“It won't be long. One night, tops.” 

She nodded, and popped her thumb into her mouth. 

“And May is going to look after you. You can ask for her any time, just like you can with me.”

Skye squirmed. “Does she know I...?” She trailed off. It was too embarrassing. 

“Yes. She knows you need to wear diapers. And that's OK.” 

Skye wasn't sure in what universe it was OK, but she nodded again. Daddy's fingers stilled in her hair. “I need to go now, sweetheart.” 

She pressed her chin into his leg. She bit her tongue, swallowing down her words. She wanted to say _Don't leave me._ She felt like crying again. This was stupid: she was a grown-up, and she was going to act like it. 

She sat up and scrubbed at her eyes. “Be careful, A.C.,” she said. He nodded, and he looked sad, and Skye tried harder than ever to shove down the ache in her chest. 

Jemma was waiting for her outside the bunk. “I've got something in the lab I'd like to show you,” she said. 

“You should go with Simmons,” Coulson said, nodding at her, and then he went down the hall without giving Skye one last hug, and Skye wrapped her arms around her chest and pretended she didn't want one, anyway. 

It must have shown on her face, because Jemma squeezed her arm and said, “He'll be back tomorrow. Honest.” 

Skye shrugged. “He can look after himself. What do you want to show me?”

Jemma actually had a pretty interesting coding problem in the lab, and Skye went over it with her and figured out how to get her genetic analysis programme working much faster. It helped to focus on something she was good at—it reminded her, too, of being back in St Agnes's and coaxing their '95 Dells to run again. It was a totally different kind of problem, but solving puzzles always gave her a buzz. 

“I can't believe SHIELD didn't snap you up when you were still in school, like they did with me,” Jemma said as she watched her. 

“I'm not smart like you. I'm the bad kind of smart, the kind that gets you locked up,” Skye said. 

Jemma laughed. “You're not bad, Skye.” 

Skye sat back on one of the lab stools. “Debatable.” She glanced at the clock: bad idea. Coulson had only been gone an hour and a half, and she was already missing him so much it actually hurt. She nibbled at her lip. 

Jemma watched her. “We could look at TV, or play cards,” she said. “Anything you like.” 

“Don't you have work to do?” Skye said, imagining curling up in bed with Jemma and watching cartoons. It made her want to cry. 

“I can skip it...” Jemma began. Just as she said it, Fitz burst in. 

“I've had a major breakthrough in restructuring the Icers,” he said. Jemma perked up, asking him questions, and Skye watched their back-and-forth, feeling small and out of place. 

“I'd better go train or something.” Skye said. 

“Maybe we could hang out after dinner?” Jemma said, and Skye nodded, and watched her slip back into her conversation with Fitz. 

She couldn't watch TV and be little. She might want to curl up in her bunk and hug her blanket, but she shouldn't. It would only make the ache worse. Her stomach was churning. God, she wanted her Daddy. She'd just got him back yesterday, and he'd run away again. He didn't really want her, he was only pretending... 

She pulled herself away from that train of though. She rushed down to the training area instead, thinking that punching something might help. She had to distract herself, she had to make everything go away. 

As she taped up her hands, she realised she had to pee. Didn't matter, she decided. She needed to punch something, and if she had to untape her hands and go all the way upstairs, she wouldn't be able to resist the fear coiled inside her any longer. 

Skye set up the punching bag. And it _was_ distracting, even though she felt like she was doing it wrong, and it made her arms ache. She could ask Ward for help, she knew, but she couldn't face him: she just wanted to go and hide. She hit the bag again and again and she knew she was holding her body wrong, but she kept hitting it anyway and her shoulders ached and her hands stung and she was biting her tongue so hard she thought she could taste metal. It was really important that she held herself together. Daddy wouldn't be there to help. 

Skye paused, biting at her lip, her arms shaking from exertion. She let go of the bag and got out her water-bottle instead. Her mouth was dry, and the icy shock of cold water over her throat helped to ground her. But when she put the water down, she was still trembling, and her shoulders burnt, and she didn't know what to do. 

She went back to hitting the bag. Get stronger, she thought. You're all alone, you need to get stronger. 

“You're doing that wrong.”

It was May. 

“I'm OK,” Skye said. She'd been trying really hard not to think about May. May was one of the scariest and most unpredictable parts of all of this. 

“I didn't ask if you were OK, I told you you're doing it wrong.” 

Skye balled her hands, tighter and tighter. “I don't need your help.”

May's voice was steely. “What did you say?”

“I _said_ I don't need your help,” Skye snapped back. “I don't need you.” The words came out choked, like she was about to cry, and Skye suddenly felt like she was in St Agnes's again, and she was yelling at one of the nuns, even though she knew it was a bad idea, even though she knew she was going to get in trouble. 

“Come here,” May said. She was standing in front of Skye now, one of her hands held out, and Skye didn't know what May wanted. She looked so grown-up and perfect and Skye knew she should nod and thank her for her help and get training pointers and work with her, but instead Skye was sniffling and turning her back on May, and when May took one step closer, Skye started running. 

She didn't think it through. There were a lot of things Skye didn't think through. 

May could definitely catch up with her, Skye knew that, but she kept running anyway, running and running, even though there wasn't exactly anywhere to _go_ on a plane. She ran past the bunks and down the service corridor, where all the storage rooms and the laundry shoot were, and the weapons lockers. She ran until she reached a dead end, and then she ran into a utility cupboard and shut the door behind her. 

She was alone with a mop. She'd never felt smaller or more stupid. May probably wasn't even following her. 

She didn't know which was worse: May following her, or May not following her. 

How often had she cried today? It was hard to keep count. She was remembering the kids in school, or maybe at St Agnes's, calling her Leaky, because they said she was always either crying or wetting her pants. They called her Baby too and told her she smelt bad. 

She rubbed at her eyes. She wasn't going to cry because some kids had teased her once. She slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wanted her blanket. She wanted Phil. She sniffed, clinging to herself. 

And then, outside. Footsteps. 

“Skye?” 

She nibbled her thumb. 

“I know you're in there. I'm going to wait here until you come out.”

Then there was just silence. May didn't tell her to come out; she didn't say she was coming in. She was just there. 

And Skye realised something. She had to pee. Bad. 

Really bad. It was one of the problems she had, never noticing until the last minute, until it was really urgent. Shit. She shifted her legs, sitting on her calf so she could press it against her crotch. She slid her thumb into her mouth and rocked herself slightly. 

If she ran out, May would be there. She'd have to explain. She'd have to talk. It was safer to stay here. 

If she stayed here, she'd wet her pants. 

That didn't seem like such a big deal. She was Skye, stupid baby Skye who never thought anything through and whose Daddy had left her. It didn't matter whether she was wet or dry. 

She squirmed. She had to go really bad, that sudden, desperate need that really just _hurt_. Having to pee always made her feel so vulnerable. People were always telling her off for it when she was a kid, saying she needed to go too often, couldn't she just wait, why couldn't she just hold it. Skye felt so _little._

She sucked her thumb, rocking herself, and pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself as small as she could. She wanted to be a little ball, small as a kitten, someone Daddy could pick up and hold. She wanted to be safe. 

The first little spurt escaped her, hot in her panties. She could clamp down, she could hold on just a little longer, but what was the point? She felt tears running down her face, god she was such a mess, everyone was right about her. And the pee flowed out, hot, soaking through her pants. She hadn't had a daytime accident in a long time. It was different from waking up wet at night. Even more humiliating. It seemed to go on and on, trickling out of her and pooling on the floor. 

When she was finally done, she sniffled, and rubbed at her face. The pee was already cooling on her legs. It would start to itch soon. She hugged herself tight, and thought about Daddy coming to find her, but May was outside, and May was going to see her like this, and that was so horrible... 

She cried properly, a hitch in her throat. 

“Skye,” came May's voice from outside. “If you come out, I can help.”

“Don't want you,” Skye said, voice trembling. 

“I know.” May's voice was completely even, not judging her, not telling her to calm down. 

“Want Daddy.”

“I know.” 

Skye squirmed. It was dark in here, and she didn't like being by herself in the dark. But May was outside. She should've watched cartoons with Jemma, at least Jemma was safe. 

Jemma wasn't like Daddy though. She wouldn't know what to do.

“May?” Skye whispered. 

But May heard her. “Yes, Skye?” 

“I... I'm...” Skye swallowed. “I wet my pants.” 

“I'll help you clean up,” May said. 

“You can come in,” Skye said, her voice a squeak. “The door's not locked.”

“I know.” May opened it. Skye blinked, huddling against the mop, the pale light from the corridor trickling in. 

May held out her hand. Skye worried her own hand was sticky, but she took it, and May helped her up. “You're a mess,” May said, but her voice was still calm, gentle. She brushed Skye's hair back from her face, like Daddy did, and squeezed Skye's hand. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

*

May didn't hug her. She brought her to Daddy's room, and undid the buttons on Skye's jeans, so Skye could pull them down, and she put the wet clothes in a bag and brought Skye into the bathroom and gave her a warm cloth to wash with. She made all the decisions, and Skye was grateful. 

She barely noticed that she was naked from the waist down in front of May. It didn't seem to matter any more—May had seen her with wet pants, and that was worse. 

In the bedroom, May got out one of the diapers Daddy kept for her. Skye sometimes wore pull-ups in the daytime, but never diapers, and she nibbled at her fingers, looking at it. 

“You're very little just now, Skye,” May said in her steady voice. “I want you to feel safe. But tell me if you're too uncomfortable.” 

Skye was uncomfortable, but she also wanted to do what May told her. She didn't want to make decisions. She was just glad she'd stopped crying. 

May spread out a towel on Phil's bed, and Skye sat down on it. “Lie back,” May said, and Skye did as May said, moving when May told her to move. She thought May diapered her even more efficiently than Phil. It was strange to have someone else's hands on her, but at least they were calm and gentle. 

“Coulson said you liked this.” May handed her the special blanket, and Skye grabbed it eagerly, pressing it to her face. May put away the towel and the rest of the diapers. Skye realised she was lying on the bed in just her t-shirt and diaper, and she should feel horribly exposed, but she felt strangely calm. May seemed even more in charge than Daddy. It was easy to let her take over. 

“Stay where you are. I'll be back in a moment.” 

Skye rolled over so she could watch May leave. She slid her thumb into her mouth and rubbed a corner of her blanket back and forth over her cheek. She felt so calm now it was almost eerie, like she'd cried all the fear out. It helped to be lying on Daddy's bed, too, even if he wasn't there. It made her feel like he really was coming back. 

When May returned, she was holding a baby's bottle. It was patterned with flowers, and full of a pale liquid. Skye knew it was for her, but she'd never been given a bottle before. 

“Apple juice,” May said. She sat on the bed next to Skye. “Put your head in my lap.”

She organised Skye so her head way lying in the crook of May's left arm, her torso across May's thighs. Skye felt very small like that, with May looking down at her, her body curled up against May's. 

“I've never...” Skye murmured. 

“Shhh.” May stroked Skye's hair back. “You just need to suck it. Some cool juice will help.”

She touched the nipple of the bottle to Skye's lips, and Skye opened her mouth to let it in. The teat was small, a different shape from her thumb, but smooth and soft and easy to suck. The apple juice filled her mouth so slowly she barely needed to swallow. It just trickled down her throat. And May was right: the cool drink was nice. 

She lay for a long time in May's arms, losing herself in the sensations: the sweet juice, sucking softly at the bottle, May's warmth against her. She was aware of the old tears drying on her cheeks and of her legs, cool against the sheets. Time didn't seem to matter. May was watching her, her face impassive but entirely without judgement. Skye felt very small. She didn't ever want to let go of the bottle. It connected May to her, and that connection made her feel safe. 

Eventually, when she'd drunk all the juice, May slid the bottle out of her mouth. Skye surprised herself by making a faint, mewling noise. She reached for the bottle. 

May put it to one side. She took Skye's hand, and gently guided Skye's left thumb to her mouth. “It's all right,” May said. She didn't push Skye away, and Skye turned her head, burying her face against May's tummy, softly sucking her thumb. 

May was still for a moment, and then she stroked Skye's hair back, and rocked her just a little, back and forth. Daddy did that too, and it helped. Skye nuzzled into May's shirt. 

“I'm sorry I ran away,” Skye murmured around her thumb. 

“Things always go better when you do what I tell you,” May said. “You'll learn.” 

“I like doing what I'm told.”

“Could've fooled me,” May said, but in her same, even voice, and Skye didn't really feel like she was being reprimanded. Big Skye still found May very intimidating, but curled up against her like this, Skye didn't feel scared at all. May was scary, but Skye knew she'd use that to protect her. 

Skye breathed in May's smell, and wound her fingers tightly in her blanket. “I feel very little,” she whispered. 

“I know. It's OK, Skye. I'm going to look after you.”

Skye slid her thumb out, trying to shape the words. “But. Aren't you mad at me?”

“Why?” May's hand was on Skye's back, warm and comforting. 

“For being little.” 

May leant down and pressed a kiss to the side of Skye's head. “You have never been less annoying than you are right now. You are affectionate and compliant and I'm happy to look after you.”

Skye knew she should just suck her thumb again and not ask any more stupid questions. But she said, “What if I'm not compliant? What if I'm bad?”

“I'll still look after you,” May said. “You should know, though, that I'm not a pushover like Coulson.” 

*

Skye slept in her own bed that night, but May helped her get ready. She changed her diaper, and gave her another bottle, and made sure she was comfortable, and told Skye to come and get her if she needed her. Skye hadn't expected to drift off easily, but she was lulled to sleep by May's calm hands and her gentle commands. 

She woke up warm and wet, knowing Daddy would come home today, and May was there before she was properly conscious, before she had time to get anxious. 

“Are you wet?” May asked, cool hand on Skye's cheek. 

Skye nodded, and May helped her get changed, and guided her into the shower. 

Skye thought she'd be gone by the time she got out, but May was waiting for her. “Your hair's a mess,” May said. 

“I like it this way,” Skye complained, but she sat on the edge of the bed for May, and let May brush her hair back into a ponytail. Skye couldn't remember anyone ever brushing her hair, and certainly not as gently as this. She shut her eyes, buoyed by May's touch. 

“Time for training,” May said, and it helped to follow that command too. And while she was punching something, she wasn't thinking at all. 

By eleven, Daddy wasn't back yet, and the tired glow from training wasn't enough to calm her nerves. She found May in the office, going over paperwork. Skye stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding her laptop. 

“Can I come in? I'll just sit here and be quiet.” 

May looked up and smiled. “Yes. Do you need anything else?”

Skye didn't. Instead of sitting at the desk, she walked around it, and sat by May's feet, leaning against the chair leg. She was just opening her laptop when she felt May's hand on her head. 

“I've misjudged you,” May said. “You want to be such a good girl, don't you, Skye?” 

Skye leant into the touch. No, she thought. I don't want to be good. Rules are bullshit. I'm an activist. May is everything that's wrong with the system. 

Skye nodded. “I want to be good for you,” she clarified. She slipped her thumb into her mouth and sucked it soothingly for a moment, leaning her head against May's thigh, before opening up the most recent hacking project she was working on for SHIELD. 

Time passed slowly, but she felt safe and protected, so close to May. She didn't have to be big—she didn't even have to sit on a chair. And May was next to her, silent and calm, there if Skye needed her.

She was still sitting with May when Coulson came back. He walked into the office calmly, as though he'd never been gone. 

Skye launched herself out from behind the table, and flung herself into his arms. He looked tired and drawn, but he was _here_ , he hadn't abandoned her. She pressed her face into his neck, clinging to him, feeling him whole and warm against her. She was trembling again. 

Over her head, he said to May, “Was she OK?”

“We got along fine,” May said. 

We did, Skye thought, burrowing into Daddy. We got along fine. In Coulson's arms, with May next to her, she finally felt safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during and after 1x15, Yes Men

1997

Jemma's Mum was in the principal's office. Jemma was sitting outside on a squeaky wooden chair, but she could hear most of what they were saying. She nibbled the end of her plait. Her hair tasted chalky. 

She'd thought it would be different here. The brochures for the school had made it sound so full of possibilities. She'd slept with the pictures of their science labs under her pillow for weeks before she'd started. They'd been so enthusiastic, too, about giving her a full scholarship. She'd thought the classes would be interesting and the other girls would be more like her. 

Neither of these things were true. 

“Has trouble adjusting...” Jemma could hear Mrs Palk, the principal, saying. “Of course, _very_ clever children sometimes have these problems...” A mumble, her mother's voice. Then Mrs Palk's again, “Her emotions haven't caught up with her mind...”

Mrs Palk's voice was always very loud, like she was addressing a lot of people at once, even when it was just Jemma's Mum. Jemma had spoken to Mrs Palk a lot. She went up to get academic awards from her, and she'd had to be on the front of the school newsletter when her science project had won a prize, and she'd had to talk to her the time one of the other girls had put Super Glue in her PE kit. 

Jemma had thought Mrs Palk liked her, but now she was saying all sorts of things about Jemma's emotional immaturity and how she wasn't settling in well and how she seemed distant from the other girls. Jemma hugged her knees to her chest. I'm trying really hard, she thought. It's not my fault no one likes me. I offer them constructive feedback on their homework and give them my notes. 

At home, in the very bottom of her sock drawer, she'd hidden something she wasn't supposed to have any more. A yellow dummy, printed with little blue fish. She suddenly want it very, very badly. 

Attachment to a comfort object, Jemma thought. That's not very emotionally mature. Maybe they're right about me. 

She leant closer to the door, trying to hear more of what they were saying, when suddenly she heard chairs being scraped back. She ducked away, her cheeks hot. 

“There you are, love,” her Mum said. “I'll take you home with me. Mrs Palk said you can miss your last class.”

“But biology's my favourite.” Jemma nibbled at the end of her plait. “I'd been looking forward to it.”

Her Mum's lips twitched. She looked a bit embarrassed, but Jemma didn't know why. She nodded to Mrs Palk, and gripped Jemma's shoulder. “Come on now, there's a good girl.”

So Jemma trailed after her mother back to the car. They didn't go past the labs, but Jemma could picture her seat in biology. She always sat next to Melissa Porter-Barnes, who wasn't very clever, really, but who always smiled at Jemma and didn't interfere with Jemma's experiments. Melissa was going to make a mess of their lab book, Jemma thought. 

“Mrs Palk thinks you're not very happy here,” Jemma's Mum said as she started the engine. 

Jemma bit at her plait so hard a couple of hairs detached themselves and stuck to her teeth. “It's a lot like my old school. I thought the work would be harder, but it isn't. It's just cleaner here, that's all.”

Her Mum put her hand on Jemma's arm. “Sometimes I wish you weren't quite so clever, love. Don't you ever want to take it easy?” 

I am taking it easy, Jemma thought. I'm so bored all the time Don't you understand that? 

But it was safer not to say anything. She'd tried to before, and her Mum never understood. 

2014

“Does Doctor Simmons believe in hugs?” 

“I don't want to squish you,” Jemma said. She rubbed her fingers together, and the latex gloves squeaked against each other. 

“I'm not that squishable,” Skye said. “And I am lonely. Everyone's treating me like I'm made of glass.” 

“You're made of blood and squidgy organs,” Jemma said. “I've seen.” 

“Well, that's gross. Have you decided you can't hug me because I'm too gross?”

Jemma shook her head. “I'll just wash my hands, OK?”

She was gone for longer than it would take to just wash her hands. Skye lay back in bed: her body was tired, aching, but her brain felt like it was full of bees. Thoughts kept buzzing in: images of being shot, of Coulson's face when she'd first woken up. And how stupid she'd been to attempt to do it all alone. 

Coulson had sat with her for a long time. She knew that, though time had been blurry and nothing had made sense. But then he'd gone—he'd said he had to research something important. She guessed he couldn't look after her, not the way she wanted, not when she was in here. But she still felt lonely. No one had brought her blanket, and she wasn't sure how to ask for it. 

“I'm beginning to think you're avoiding me,” Skye said, when Jemma finally came back. 

“I'm not.” Jemma perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed. 

“That's not any way to hug someone,” Skye said, and shifted to the side. Jemma sat a little more comfortably on the mattress, but she was still all elbows and sharp bones. 

Skye sighed. She felt very vulnerable, but also like she had to be very grown-up and responsible while she dealt with getting better. She pressed her face into Jemma's ribs, because they were the closest part. Jemma was still wearing her lab-coat, and she smelt a little like band-aids. 

“I'm sorry I almost died,” Skye said. 

“You should be. It was very stressful.” 

“It sounds intense. All that rushing around. And I just lay there.”

“You were very lazy.” Jemma sighed. “Your nose is tickling me.”

“Hug me properly then. I didn't ask for my head to be in your armpit.”

Jemma laughed and seemed to relax a little. She scooted down the bed, and Skye leant her head on Jemma's shoulder, and Jemma put her arms around Skye. It felt nice. Safe. She could hear Jemma breathe. 

“You must be tired,” Skye said. “When you're not bossing me around, you've been in the lab.” 

“I'm a little tired,” Jemma said. 

“We could watch cartoons. I think I would get better a lot faster if we watched cartoons together.” 

“Only if I can pick too. I don't care how sick you are, you don't get to just watch _Adventure Time_.” 

“Doctor Simmons is mean. Besides, I thought you liked _Adventure Time_.”

Jemma stroked Skye's arm. After a moment, she said, “I thought we were friends. Best friends.”

Skye stiffened, looking up at her. The angle was awkward: she could mostly see Jemma's chin. “We are. Do you think I demand hugs from just anyone?”

“You didn't tell me about Coulson. I've had to guess. I kept waiting for you to tell me, and you never did.”

Skye linked her fingers around Jemma's hand. “I did want to tell you.” She nibbled her lip. She suddenly really wanted to suck her thumb. “It was hard. I thought he wanted me to keep it a secret and... I was trying to keep it really separate. Little Skye and Agent Skye. I didn't want them to get mixed up.”

“But you're Little Skye around me.” 

“I know.” Skye sighed. She hoped Jemma wasn't going to get mad: the bees in her brain were finally relaxing, now she could hear Jemma's heart. “Little Skye is pretty terrible at making decisions, you know?”

She felt Jemma nod. “I know. I'm not great at it either.” Jemma squeezed her hand. “Maybe we can agree to stop keeping secrets, though?”

“Uh-huh,” Skye said. “But that means there are some things I should probably tell you about Agent May.”

“Agent _May_?”

Skye nodded. “I'll tell you everything if you agree to get my blanket.”

“Your blanket? Oh Skye, I'm sorry I didn't bring it earlier. I forgot.” 

“You can make it up to me by more hugs and cartoons.” Skye felt her eyes drifting shut. She was so warm and safe here. “But first, secrets. Agent May is really good at hugs, too...”

*

May hadn't come to see her, though. Coulson had come and held her hand and kissed her forehead, and explained in great detail why he now needed to leave, and Jemma and Fitz where there all the time. Even Ward had come in to talk to her. But May didn't come at all. 

Some people don't like sick rooms, Skye thought. May isn't very demonstrative, anyway. And May is busy. But Skye still missed her. 

Sometimes, when Skye was feeling anxious or overwhelmed, she went to sit at May's feet in her office, or next to her in the cockpit. They didn't speak. It just made Skye feel calm. May would reach over from time to time, and touch Skye's head, her fingers firm. It reminded Skye that May was in charge, and it made her feel safe. 

May looked after Skye too, when she was feeling little, but not as often as Coulson. It was scarier to go to May and ask for comfort, though May had never refused her. Usually, if Coulson was away, May would check in on Skye before bed, and sometimes she would give Skye a bottle. Skye loved that: her head in May's lap, the teat of the bottle in her mouth, May holding her safe. 

She felt lonely in the hospital bed, all by herself for hours. Jemma had brought her blanket now, and that helped, but it wasn't enough. She sat up and played with her laptop when she felt well enough, but she spent a lot of time just lying there, sucking her thumb, hugging herself. 

“Is Coulson still away?” she asked Jemma, when Jemma came in with soup. 

Jemma nodded. “He's being very reticent about what he's doing. I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready.”

“Will you hang out with me while I eat?”

Jemma sat down next to her, and Fitz came in before long. Skye was pleased to learn that even sick and with soup on her chin, she could beat them both at poker. 

She didn't want to be left alone at bedtime. She wished she and Jemma could have a sleepover, or, better yet, she wished she was curled up next to Daddy in his bed. But she had to be OK by herself. She drifted between waking and sleeping for hours. Simple things like playing cards could exhaust her, but she still struggled to fall asleep properly. Her head buzzed. Drifting like this wasn't uncomfortable, but it made too much room in her mind for scary thoughts to take over: Being shot. Maybe Coulson didn't love her any more. And the old favourite: shadows with teeth. 

She should've expected that, when she'd finally got to sleep, she'd wake up again, and find herself wet. She didn't expect it though. The first blurry days of sickness, she'd had a catheter because couldn't get up, and since then she'd been able to make shaky progress to the nearest bathroom. She thought she might have wet the hospital bed once before this, but she'd been sicker then, and the memories were hazy. 

Now she was well enough to deal with it by herself. 

She sat up slowly. The sheets were thin, and they clung to her skin. She felt around, and realised that even her special blanket was wet. She touched it anyway, but it wasn't comforting. When it was wet it just made her sad. 

She tried to think of what to do next: get out of bed. Strip the bed. Then what? She couldn't make her way upstairs by herself to find fresh pyjamas. 

She flopped back against the pillows. Jemma had left her phone nearby: she knew she could call her. But I don't want Jemma, Skye thought. I want... I want someone to take care of me. 

She shivered. She could just lie here. Maybe she'd go back to sleep. Then they'd find her in the morning, all wet and alone, and know how pathetic she was. They'd wonder why they went to all that trouble to save her. 

She felt a sob start in her throat. She struggled upright again. 

And then the door slid open. 

“What are you doing, Skye?”

It was May's voice: so calm and so assured that Skye was completely confident May could make everything better. 

She reached out in May's direction. She meant to say, “I had an accident, I could use your help,” but instead she said, “I need a hug,” in a voice that belonged entirely to her little self.

May stood by the bed. She put her hand on Skye's head, like she'd done so many times before, and Skye leant towards her, burrowing into May's taut stomach. “I think you need a change more than a hug,” May said. 

“I need both.” 

May held her for a moment longer. She kissed the top of Skye's head. “Sit tight, Skye, I'm going to get you some dry clothes.” She paused, her hand on Skye's shoulder. “Who on Earth decided you'd be OK without a diaper?”

Skye shrugged, and then was sorry, because shrugs hurt. “Don't know. I didn't.” 

May gave Skye a tissue and turned the light on before she left, and Skye felt better in its warm glow. She scrubbed her face dry and blew her nose. 

May was efficient and gentle when she helped Skye change. With May, even more than with Coulson, Skye could just let herself drift, knowing May would make all the decisions. She told Skye when to move, and got the wet sheets off her and a dry diaper on more painlessly than Skye had imagined possible. 

“You haven't visited before,” Skye said. May gave her a warm, damp cloth to wash her hands. 

“I have, but you were asleep.” 

Skye handed back the cloth and rubbed her fingers dry on her t-shirt. “I missed you.” 

“I'm here now.”

Skye hugged herself. “My blanket got all wet.” 

“It'll be clean soon,” May said. She smoothed out the sheets on Skye's bed, and tucked the pillows under Skye's back. Skye popped her thumb into her mouth, sucking slowly. The diaper felt warm and safe under her butt: she realised she'd missed that security. For a second she worried what would happen in the morning, if Jemma would come in and find her wet, but she trusted May to take care of it. 

“Hugs now?” Skye mumbled around her thumb. 

May looked at her appraisingly. “I think you need a bottle.” 

Skye hadn't realised how much she'd been hoping May would say that. She nodded. “I think so too.” 

Even though she didn't want to be left alone, Skye felt so safe and comfortable that she had almost drifted asleep by the time May returned. May sat next to her on the narrow bed, and Skye leant back against May's shoulder, one of May's arms around her waist. 

“Here,” May said. She passed Skye something soft and fluffy. Skye grabbed it. She was holding a a cuddly elephant, made of silky grey plush. Its little trunk was tilted upwards at a jaunty angle. 

Skye stroked it. “Is this for me?”

“Yes. Now scoot down a little so I can give you your bottle.” 

Skye didn't say thank you. She just hugged the little elephant close, and did as May said, cushioning her head on May's chest, and May tilted the bottle up to Skye's mouth. Skye sucked, feeling her eyes slipping shut. It was water, flavoured faintly with something citrus. Skye could hear May's heart under her ear. 

She was aware of May slipping the bottle out of her mouth at some point, but she wasn't aware of May leaving. May's heart and May's warmth accompanied her through her dreams. 

She woke dry-mouthed, her face pressed into May's collarbone. She blinked, but didn't move. She could hear May's breath, steady and deep. She was sure May would wake easily, and she didn't want to disturb her. She shut her eyes again, hoping to drift back into sleep, but her shoulders ached, and her bladder was full. 

Skye shifted, stiff, trying to get into a more comfortable position. May made a faint sound, and her hand, on Skye's arm, tightened automatically, like she was checking Skye was still there. Then she seemed to drift back into sleep, breath evening out. Skye shut her eyes, listening. It was good to be close to May, to someone who wanted to look after her. 

She was glad she was wearing a diaper. It had been a while since she'd wet one on purpose, and for a moment she thought maybe she couldn't relax enough, but then it came, her bladder flooding the diaper with heat. She knew she should find it gross, but really it was just warm, and it made her feel safe. She was little: she could have accidents, it didn't matter. 

She eased her thumb into her mouth, sucking softly. The elephant had slipped out of her reach—it was on May's other side. May must have bought it for her somewhere. Skye looked at it fondly: the little trunk, the warm black eyes. She didn't think she'd ever been given a stuffed toy before, or not for years and years. 

Skye was still snuggled in May's arm, drifting warmly between sleep and wakefulness, when Jemma arrived. She came early every morning to check on her, and Skye appreciated it very much, but it still seemed like really bad timing when she was curled up so safe with May. 

Jemma knew about May: Skye had told her when they'd agreed to stop keeping secrets. Skye wasn't completely sure how Jemma _felt_ about it. Jemma had mostly seemed shocked. Skye wondered if she was a little jealous too. Skye thought _she'd_ be jealous if Jemma had two people to look after her, and she didn't have any. 

When Jemma slid the door open, Skye's hand went instantly to her lips, trying to get Jemma to be quiet, but it was too late. May woke, drawing herself upright, her hand still on Skye's back. 

Skye looked up at her. May's face was expressionless, but her eyes flickered, uncertain. “It's OK,” Skye said. “Jemma knows. Jemma's little too.” 

Then Skye wanted to cover her mouth, because that wasn't really her secret to tell. None of it was. She leant her head back down against May's chest, peeking at Jemma. 

Jemma looked like she wanted to disappear. She was pink, her hands grasping her clipboard and her latex gloves. 

May squeezed Skye's shoulder once, and then let go. “Skye didn't sleep very well last night. I came down to check on her.” 

“Oh, Skye, I told you to ring me if you needed anything,” Jemma said, words tumbling together breathlessly. 

Skye reached over so she could grab her elephant. She stroked its fur. It wasn't as good as her blanket, but it was comforting. “I wet the bed,” she said. “I was embarrassed. Anyway, May was here.” 

Jemma took a step forward. She was looking a bit less pink. “You didn't have to be _embarrassed_. I always tell you that.” 

Skye felt very small. She could feel the tension in both the other women, and she didn't know how to deal with it. She just wanted them both to happy and calm. She popped her thumb back into her mouth, hiding her face against May. 

But May had different ideas. “I'm going to get up now, Skye,” she said, easing her way out of the bed. “Do you need a change?” 

Skye nibbled her thumb. Jemma knew about that too—of course she did. But it was still hard to hear May say it so bluntly. Skye nodded, trying really hard not to look at either of them. 

“OK. I'll help you change and I'll come back in a couple of hours to check on you.” 

Skye was glad May sounded so calm now, but she still felt very small and anxious. She hugged the elephant tightly. “Don't go.” 

“I haven't gone yet,” May said. 

Jemma was nibbling her lip, watching them. “I can look after you. Don't worry,” she said, and thought she was trying to be reassuring, she'd never be as good as May. Skye wished May would stay. 

“You are looking after her. You're doing a very good job.” May pulled the covers back from Skye's bed. 

“I'll just—I'll go and get some breakfast for Skye,” Jemma said, and fled. 

Skye shut her eyes as May slid the diaper down. It was hard to relax: she felt like she was drifting between being big and little. And though she never minded May touching her, it still felt too intimate for the hospital room, where anyone could come in. 

“I'm going to give you a pull-up, Skye. You should be OK until this evening, but this will keep you safe.” 

Skye nodded. May's hands were warm and firm on her skin. She had to wriggle her hips painfully to get the pull-up on, but May seemed to know it hurt without Skye making a sound. She caressed Skye's cheek and whispered, “Good girl,” as she helped Skye to lie back down. 

“I have you and Coulson,” Skye said. “And Jemma doesn't have anyone. Do you think she's jealous?” 

The elephant had fallen off the bed. May picked it up and put it on the pillow next to Skye. “I don't think she's jealous,” May said after a moment. “I think she might be lonely.” 

*

After breakfast, Skye found she felt better. Every day brought improvement, though her progress was still so slow it frustrated her. Jemma kept saying she was doing exceptionally well, but it didn't feel like it to Skye. She thought, if Coulson were here, and he told her to wait and rest, she could relax and do what he said, but he wasn't.

Skye kept trying to sneak out of bed, and once she even got as far as the lab, until Jemma found her and led her back to her room. 

“You're very badly behaved.”

“Coulson's not a very strict parent,” Skye said. She could sit up now, and hug her knees, which was another improvement. 

“I'm sure May is though. I'm sure if I tell her you won't stay in bed, she'll have something to say about it.” 

“You're not a snitch.” 

“I could be. I like being good.” Jemma perched next her, and Skye budged over so Jemma could lean back more comfortably. 

“I haven't made May mad yet. Not when I'm little.” Skye nibbled her thumb. “It'll probably happen one day.”

“Soon, if you're not careful.” Jemma was smiling. 

Skye rubbed her head against Jemma's shoulder. “Are you lonely? May said maybe you were lonely. She meant because you don't have anyone to look after you.” 

Jemma went still. She stared at her hands. After a moment she said, “I have you.” 

“I'm not very good at being a parent though,” Skye said. “I'm just trouble.” 

“You make me feel less alone,” Jemma said. “When I was... When we were younger, Fitz and I used to be little together. Sometimes. Or, I thought we were. But as we got older, he wanted to less and less, and then he started telling me I... I shouldn't want it.” 

“Oh.” Skye wasn't sure what to do. She wanted to hug Jemma and make everything OK. And she was kind of mad at Fitz. But she wasn't sure what to do with those feelings. She didn't know how to fix anything. At last she said, “I'm glad you're the way you are, Jemma.” 

“Come on,” Jemma sat up. “I'll get your laptop and we can watch some of your stupid cartoons.” 

“You like them too,” Skye complained, as Jemma want to get the laptop from the table at the other side of the room. It was tucked into Skye's green bag. Jemma pulled something else out of it, too, and then revealed to Skye what was in her hand. It was Jemma's blue pacifier with the mouse on it. Skye knew it was her second favourite. 

Skye grinned. “You don't get to boss me around if you're little too.”

“I'm still bigger than you,” Jemma said, getting back on the bed. She glanced anxiously at the door, and then gently slipped her pacifier in her mouth. She and Skye leant against each other, setting the laptop between them. Skye rubbed her elephant's soft trunk against her cheek, and sucked her thumb. 

She felt dazed: she'd been trying to be sensible and grown-up, but after last night, with May, her resolve had slipped away. She was sick, after all. She didn't have to be too responsible. 

They were half-way through an old episode of _Sesame Street_ when May came back in. Jemma dropped her pacifier, made a faint squeaking sound, and hid her face in Skye's neck. 

It was kind of cute. Skye put her hand on Jemma's shoulder and rubbed gently. She looked up at May. 

“Don't panic, Jemma,” May said. Skye had never heard her call Jemma anything but 'Simmons' before. “I'm used to babysitting.”

“In theory I understand that,” Jemma said into Skye's shoulder. “But in practise it's very hard not to panic when a superior officer sees you sucking a dummy.” 

“May's seen a lot worse from me,” Skye said. 

“Not worse, Skye, just littler,” May replied. Skye was surprised at the correction: that was the kind of thing Coulson might say. 

Jemma nodded, her breath warm against Skye. She didn't seem inclined to move. Skye looked at May over the top of Jemma's head. She seemed almost amused. 

“I've had word from Coulson,” May said. “We have a situation. We'll need you, Simmons. Skye can stay here.” 

Jemma sat up slowly. Her pacifier was still hidden in her hand. “Skye's not been very good at staying here.” 

May looked between them. “She'll have to try harder. Come with me.”

*

The whole Asgardian god thing was pretty cool, even if Skye didn't get to be very involved. At least she got to do some technical back-up. The best part, though, was that Coulson had come back. 

“I don't need to be in this bed any more,” she said. “I'm coming back with you. You can monitor me from there.” 

Coulson stroked her cheek. “You've been very sick, Skye. You should stay here until Simmons says it's OK.”

“Simmons will be glad to get some time off from Skye duty.” She thought about Jemma's warmth next to her in bed, and how frightened Jemma had looked when May walked in. She'd need to talk to Coulson about Jemma, but right now she just wanted her Daddy. Her hand reached automatically for her blanket, but it wasn't there. She slid her thumb into her mouth. “May took my blanket away to wash it and I don't know where it is,” she said, incoherently. “And I need you to look after me.” 

Coulson's face twitched. He looked tired, suddenly, and frightened. Then he'd pulled her into his arms, clinging to her, as though he needed her to keep him safe. “Am I hurting you?” he said. 

“Uh-uh.” Skye shut her eyes, burrowing her nose into his neck. 

“God, I thought I'd lost you,” he said. His voice was slightly shaky. She hadn't heard him say that before. 

“I'm here,” she murmured, trying to be comforting. He rocked her a little, back and forth, pulling her so close it did hurt, but she didn't complain. “Bust me out. I need a real bed, and my blanket, and you to look after me, and ice-cream for breakfast, and I want to watch the last three _Harry Potter_ movies before I got to sleep, and we should take Simmons to a theme park, somewhere she can unwind, and...” 

“Shh.” Coulson kissed her temple. “OK, OK. I can agree to at least some of those demands.”

*

She found herself in the middle of Daddy's bed, propped up by three pillows. Daddy had helped her get changed into new pyjamas and a diaper, and washed her face for her, and brought her apple juice so she could take her medication. Jemma had looked so tired she hadn't put up much of a fight when Coulson whisked Skye away. 

She'd had to remind Daddy twice to go and find her blanket. No one seemed to understand how important her blanket was. 

“Maybe you do,” she said to the elephant. “Should I name you? What names to elephants have, anyway?”

May came back with Coulson. She was wearing her pyjamas, which were black and looked too tidy to be real pyjamas. Skye always thought you could hold a conference call with someone really important, like Director Fury, in pyjamas like that. 

“You've got my blanket,” Skye said, reaching for it. She buried her face in it happily when May handed it back over, rubbing the silky edges over her cheek as she sucked her thumb. 

“You look like you feel better,” May said. Coulson went into his bathroom. 

Skye nodded. “It's because I've escaped.” She leant her head back against the pillows. The short walk up to Phil's room had left her surprisingly tired. 

May sat down next to her. “Coulson indulges you.”

“So do you,” Skye said, around her thumb. She leant her head on May's shoulder. May didn't agree, but she didn't push Skye off, either. 

Coulson came back, and lay down on her other side. Skye wondered if they were both staying. She wanted them to stay. She thought nowhere in the world would feel safer than between these two people. She could never remember curling up next to anyone when she was a little kid, and she loved it now. She budged over slowly, mindful of her stomach, so she could give Coulson a hug too. He smelt like cotton and toothpaste. “Daddy,” she murmured happily, leaning on his chest. 

He kissed the top of her head. “See,” he said to May. “She's very well-behaved.”

May snorted. “Only when she gets what she wants.” 

“She always does what I tell her.” 

“You always do what she tells _you_ ,” May replied. She sounded fond, though, so Skye didn't say anything. 

“Did you see the elephant May got me?” Skye said. He'd slipped down between them, and she pulled him back up.

“I didn't,” Coulson said. He was grinning at May, liked he'd won something. “It's a very nice elephant. Does it have a name?”

“I don't know,” Skye said. “I thought I might ask Jemma. But she might name him after an element or a biologist and that might be difficult. Her bunny's called Ben, though.” 

“Ben's a good name.” Coulson stroked Skye's back. “You didn't tell me about Jemma. I suspected, though.”

Skye looked up at him. “How did you suspect?”

“Coulson's got a good instinct for these things,” May said. 

Skye wondered, again, how May and Coulson knew each other. How they'd got so good at looking after her. Had they looked after someone before? 

She wasn't good at not asking questions, but just now it seemed better not to ask. She nibbled her thumb. “I think Jemma wants someone to look after her.”

“I think so too,” Coulson said. “I needed to talk to you before I did anything.”

“Why?” Skye stroked her blanket over her cheek. She was beginning to feel very sleepy. 

“I wanted to know how you felt about it. If I, and maybe May too, looked after Jemma sometimes, how would that make you feel? Would you worry it impacted on my relationship with you?”

That was a lot of big concepts for when she was feeling so tired. “You should look after Jemma,” she said, before slipping her thumb fully into her mouth. “She says I'm enough, but I'm not a parent. You should hug her and we'll watch cartoons.” 

Skye felt Coulson's laugh under her cheek before she heard it. “OK, Skye,” he said.

“Mmm,” Skye mumbled in agreement. She could hear May and Coulson talking to each other, but she didn't need to listen. It was nice to hear their voices around to her, to feel their warm bodies against her. She could drift away. 

She woke later, shivering and tearful. She couldn't remember the nightmare, just the feelings: fear and loneliness. It was dark in their room, but she could feel Coulson's warmth on once side of her, and May's solid presence behind her. Her face was pressed against Coulson's arm, and she breathed in, smelling him. 

Daddy, she thought, but she didn't say anything. She was calming down already, her heart-rate slowing. She could feel her diaper warm and heavy between her legs, but that didn't matter. She could change it later. She found her blanket, pressed it against her cheek, and shut her eyes, knowing she was safe. 

*

Jemma got out all her dummies, and lined them up on her pillow. Seven of them, all different colours. The voice that told her she should throw them away was loud this evening. 

It's different for Skye, she thought. Skye is cute. I need to be grown-up. 

She gathered the dummies back up and put them in her make-up bag again, except her green one. She sucked it and hugged her knees. She needed to talk to someone about this, but Skye was sick and in bed with Coulson, and there wasn't anyone else. 

She put the dummy in her pocket for comfort and went to find Fitz. She couldn't talk to him, but sometimes being next to him helped anyway. 

Jemma knocked lightly on his door. He didn't tell her not to come in, so she slid it open. He was half asleep, but he smiled when he saw it was her. His toy monkey had been on his pillow, and he shoved it quickly beneath the covers. Jemma wondered why he bothered: she knew, after all, and anyway, it was just a monkey. Her secrets were much more humiliating. 

“Skye insisted on being let back into her own bunk,” Jemma said. 

“I can understand that. Anyway, she was a pain in the hospital. She kept interrupting us in the lab.” 

“Oh yes, you hate being interrupted by Skye.” 

Fitz yawned. “I don't want to be interrupted by anyone when I'm working. Some day, eh?” 

“Makes me glad we went into the field,” Jemma agreed. “You rarely get to see Asgardian heroes in the lab.” 

“Though I'm not crazy about being brainwashed.” Fitz stretched. 

Jemma squeezed the dummy through her pocket. “I'm sure there are worse things than being brainwashed by beautiful women.” She wished she could lie down next to Fitz and ask him for a hug, but he'd probably take it the wrong way. Things had been different between them since he'd said they should be more grown-up. 

“Are you making any progress on Skye's bloodwork?” Fitz asked. 

Jemma shook her head. She needed to really focus on that. She'd been so distracted over the last few days, and she'd let Skye distract her further. “I should go to bed,” she said. 

“OK.” Fitz shut his eyes. Before she shut the door, Jemma saw him roll over, and cuddle up with his monkey again. You're so cute, she thought. Why can't we be cute together? 

She went back to her own bed; it seemed like hours before she fell asleep. When her alarm woke her it was sudden and horrible, and she was sure she'd barely closed her eyes. She flopped back against the pillows and popped her dummy into her mouth. It always fell out when she was asleep. Stay awake, she thought. You've got work to do. You're a responsible Agent of... 

It couldn't have been much later when she jerked awake again. Skye had plopped down on the bed next to her. She was looking pale, in soft blue pyjamas, and Jemma was pretty sure she could see the top of a nappy peeking out of Skye's waist-band.

Jemma yawned. “Aren't I supposed to be the one finding you in bed?”

“I woke up,” Skye said. “And May woke up ages ago, and then I woke Coulson up.” She was smiling, and her face was more open, somehow, than Jemma was used to seeing. Skye was still looking ill, fragile despite her smile, and Jemma was sure she was feeling little. Skye always seemed to slip into her little self so easily, whereas Jemma barely allowed herself to have a little self at all. 

“Coulson says you need to give me my medication,” Skye went on. “And then you should have breakfast with us. In his room. He says I should have breakfast in bed, because I'm sick.”

“I think by getting out of bed all the time anyway, you render having meals in there pointless.” 

“It's fun, though. Come on.” Skye took Jemma's hand. 

“Go back to Coulson,” Jemma said. “I need to brush my hair and get your medication.” 

Jemma got dressed in a cute pink shirt and some tailored trousers. Her hands were a little shaky. They just want to eat breakfast with you, she thought. It doesn't mean anything. 

She tucked her dummy into her pocket for comfort—she only did that on very bad days—before going to get Skye's medication. 

Jemma had never been inside Coulson's room before, and she felt weird about even knocking on his door. She heard Skye calling her to come in. 

Skye was sitting in bed again. Her hair was tangled, and she looked very peaky, but much happier than when she'd been in the hospital bed. Jemma hadn't realised how much Skye had been missing Coulson. Skye looked very little, too—she was cuddling her new elephant, and her blanket was tucked over her arm—but it wasn't just that. It was something about how calm and trusting she seemed. 

“I've got your meds,” Jemma said. 

Skye made a face. “Da— _Coulson_ said he'd bring me some apple juice to take them with. He said he'd make breakfast too, but I don't know what it'll be.”

“Skye...” Jemma touched her dummy through her pocket. “Does Coulson know about me?”

Skye's expression changed. She nodded, suddenly seriously. “I think May told him. I'm sorry, Jemma, I didn't mean to let it all out. I know it wasn't up to me.” 

Jemma sat down next to her. “It's OK.” She looked at her hands. “I'm glad we don't have any more secrets.” 

When Coulson came in with a plate of French toast, Jemma and Skye were sitting next to each other in bed, discussing what to name the elephant. 

“I kind of just want to call him Elephant,” Skye was saying. 

“That's a terrible name. You should call him Herschel after the great...” but Jemma trailed off, looking up at Coulson. 

He passed her a plate of toast, and gave Skye a glass of juice. Jemma held the plate awkwardly. The toast was overcooked at the edges, and she thought if she tried to eat it with syrup she'd get it all over the bedsheets and she couldn't do that, but if she ate it plain maybe Coulson would think she was weird or not appreciating him properly.... 

Coulson fussed around Skye, getting her to swallow her meds, and cutting up her toast for her. Skye didn't seem to mind. He put his hand against her forehead, and Skye leant up into his hand, turning the touch into a caress. Jemma looked at her own plate, swallowing down an emotion inside her that she didn't know how to name. 

“Is breakfast OK, Jemma?” Coulson said. 

He never called her Jemma unless her life was at risk. It was strange to hear it now; May had called her Jemma too. She nodded, nibbling at her toast. “It's nice.” 

“You know, I've kind of suspected you had little tendencies for a long time,” Coulson said. 

Jemma choked. 

She felt Skye's hand on her back. “He knew about me, too. I think it's his superpower.” 

“Nothing has to change between any of us,” Coulson said. He was using his serious voice, but he'd made it more gentle than usual. “But if you want it to, it can. Skye, May and I worried you might feel lonely—that perhaps you'd like someone to take care of you sometimes.” 

Jemma felt her cheeks growing hot. She put the plate down: her stomach was churning. She'd wanted him to say this; secretly she'd wanted someone to take care of her for such a long time. But it was so hard to hear. She didn't know how to answer; she didn't know what to do. She squeezed her dummy through her pocket, ducking her head down. 

Skye touched her pocket too. “You can take it out, you know,” she said softly. 

“I'm too embarrassed.” 

“Sit next to me,” Skye said. “Your pacifier will help. We'll watch a video. You don't have to worry about Coulson.”

Skye sounded hopeful, like she really wanted Jemma to do what she'd suggested. Jemma squirmed anxiously, but let Skye pull her over. Skye put her arm around Jemma's shoulders, and eased the dummy out of Jemma's pocket with her other hand. She brought it up to Jemma's lips. Jemma almost whimpered with shame, but she let it slide into her mouth. For a moment, it just felt all wrong: cold and humiliating and horrible. Then she started sucking, and the familiar sense of comfort returned. She ducked her head, mostly hiding her face in Skye's hair. 

Skye and Coulson weren't talking to her, and that helped. Jemma just stayed still, sucking her dummy, smelling Skye's hair. 

She heard the laptop open, and the familiar sound of the _Roobarb and Custard_ theme starting. That programme always made her feel safe—the narrator's gentle voice, silly Roobarb always getting into trouble, the bird's garish laughter. Even with her eyes shut, it helped. 

After a little while, she felt better enough to peek out at the cartoon. Then she started feeling like she'd been silly—she didn't have to be so embarrassed. Skye was sitting next to her wearing a nappy and sucking her thumb, and _she_ wasn't embarrassed. Jemma didn't have to be either. She always worried she was weird or creepy for wanting this—but clearly Skye didn't think it was weird. Or Coulson. 

She glanced up, wondering if Coulson was there. He was sitting on the bed on the other side of Skye, looking at his phone, but then he looked up and smiled at her. “You've got a cute pacifier,” he said. “I was telling Skye earlier that I like the new colourful ones.” 

Jemma smiled. She took the dummy out and held it in her hand so she could say, “You know, you can get Captain America ones these days.”

Skye giggled. “He's going to get you one of those. Aren't you, Daddy?”

Coulson was still looking at her. “If Jemma will let me.” 

“I'd like that,” Jemma said. 

*

It was strange to go back to work after that. They'd finished breakfast and watched another cartoon, and Coulson had touched her cheek very gently and said that they should talk later. 

“Come and hang out with me soon,” Skye had said, hugging her elephant. “I'm going to be super bored.” 

“You have your laptop now,” Jemma said. “You can do some work.”

Skye stuck her tongue out at her. “You're mean, Doctor Simmons.” 

Then Jemma was back in the lab with Fitz, working on new tech, pretending nothing strange had happened at all. It was always easy, working with Fitz, their thoughts always flowed together, but it was also hard to concentrate. She'd left her dummy on Coulson's bedside table. That was not a place she'd ever thought her dummy would be. 

Coulson had lunch with her and Fitz in the kitchen. May and Ward were somewhere else, but the kitchen seemed full with the three of them. Coulson put together sandwiches and chatted about Skye's progress and new tech and the previous mission. Then, just as she and Fitz were leaving, he gestured her back to come with him. 

He stood in front of his desk, not around behind it. She supposed he didn't want to intimidate her. “Jemma,” he said softly, and she wondered if she should change position, or look more little somehow. She didn't know. She just felt like herself. 

“I know this is hard for you,” Coulson said. “We'll take things as slowly as you like. I'd like to look after you a little bit, like I do for Skye. That's all. We can discuss this any time you need to. You never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” 

It all seemed like exactly the things he should say—calm, responsible, rehearsed. Jemma twisted her hands together. It did reassure her, but it made her feel anxious too. 

“I'd like you to learn how to tell me what you need. I know it's difficult. Skye struggles with it, too, sometimes, though she's more naturally vocal than you are.” 

Jemma squirmed anxiously. “I... I thought I was the only person who ever felt like this. And then I met Skye, and everything was better, and now there's you, and I don't know how to feel. I'm not like Skye. She's so cute, and so confident, she's always _her_ and I never know who I am and I don't know how to be... who I should be... for you and her.”

Coulson came closer. He touched her cheek again, very gently, cupping her chin with his fingers. “Is this OK?” he said. 

Jemma nodded. She stepped forward, just a little closer, and then he hugged her, arms encircling her shoulders. She let herself relax against him. It was strange to be hugged like this, to be contained so completely by someone. 

“You don't have to be anything, Jemma.” He stroked little circles onto her back. “I don't think you're alone with these feelings, either. I think Skye is confused, too. I'm glad you have each other.” He paused. “And Skye's not the only one who's cute, you know.” 

Jemma smiled. “Can I go watch TV with her before I have to work?”

Coulson squeezed her once before he let her go. “That sounds like a good idea. Not too long though, you don't want Fitz to wonder where you are.” 

*

“You two watch too much TV,” May said. It was much later—Jemma had finished work with Fitz, and she was keeping Skye company before bed. 

“Cartoons are an integral part of the healing process,” Skye said in a terrible imitation of Jemma's accent. 

Jemma poked her. “That's an awful accent. And I never said that.” Her dummy fell out into her hand when she spoke. She'd barely realised it had been in her mouth until then. 

May took off her leather jacket and put it over the back of her chair. “When Skye's a little better, I'm definitely going to restrict TV.” 

“Will you read us stories instead?” Skye asked. 

May raised her eyebrows. She didn't say yes or no. She came over to the bed and put her hand on Jemma's shoulder. “You talked to Coulson, Jemma?”

Her first name again. It helped to have a code like that, to know when they weren't talking to her professionally. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.” The hand squeezed once, briefly. “Are you OK?”

Jemma nodded. “I'm OK.” She felt a sudden surge of trust for May—for how calm she was, and how matter-of-fact. She suddenly saw what Skye meant, when Skye said May was comforting. 

“Move up,” May said, and Jemma squirmed over. May sat down next to her, propping herself up with pillows. Suddenly Jemma was wedged between May and Skye. It was a good feeling, but strange too. 

“I've been calling the elephant Elephant,” Skye said. “But Jemma thinks I should name it after a scientist. I keep forgetting his name.” 

May didn't answer that. Instead, she said, “If we're going to watch something, it should be something good. Find a movie.” 

Jemma listened to them bicker about film choices. She felt small between them, contained by the warmth of both of them. Slowly, she picked up her dummy, and slipped it back into her mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after 1x20

1999

For as long as Leo could remember, it had just been him and his Mum. 

And that was fine. His Mum took him to the Natural History Museum in Edinburgh every half-term, and the Transport Museum in Glasgow whenever she had time. She bought him all the books about mechanics she could afford, and she got a special ticket to Glasgow University Library so she could get out the really good textbooks on science and engineering for him to read. She listened when he said school was so slow it was patronising, and she only shouted a bit when he took the oven apart (it was greasier than he had expected) and she never made him eat broccoli. 

It was actually better than fine. He'd rather spend time with his Mum than anyone else, because everyone else was boring and she always listened. He could see how clever his mother was, how quickly thoughts moved behind her brown eyes, how much she wanted to learn, just like he did. 

As he got older, he started to hate how tired she was. She came home one day, at 8.30, because her shift didn't end till eight, and took her shoes off, and said, “That's the end of that, then.”

She always looked tired, but he'd never seen her look as tired as she did now. Her face was white and her eyes were surrounded by blue shadows, and her hair had gone thin and lank. She was leaning her head on her hand, as though, if she didn't support it, she'd just fall right onto the table. 

Leo was standing at the sink, trying to scrape the scrambled egg off the bottom of the pan. He'd turned around to look at her, but he was still holding the pan and the j-cloth. He always cooked egg too long when he had to make dinner for himself, and it stuck like cement. 

“The end of what?” he said, but he didn't really need to ask. They'd been laying people off at the warehouse for months. 

She sighed. “Ten years of late-nights and doing holidays all down the drain.” 

“It was a rubbish job, anyway,” Leo said. 

“The jewellery shop doesn't pay enough,” she said. “It's only mornings and Sundays.” 

“You should go to university,” Leo said, scraping at the pan. Scratch, scratch. There had to be a formula for getting egg off. It was just protein, not superglue. 

His Mum snorted. “And how would I feed you then?” He watched as she rubbed at the soles of her feet. “Come and give me a hug,” she said. 

He put down the pan and went over to her. She stayed sitting, so she was much smaller than he was, standing above her. She leant her head against his stomach, and he put his hands on her back: he could feel her shoulder-blades under his hands, sharp as wings, and he was aware, for the first time, of how small she was, of the delicate bones of her body. He felt like he could snap her. 

You've got to grow up, he thought. Stop mucking around with toys. You've got to earn money. You've got to look after her. 

2014

Skye sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. _I want my blanket,_ she thought, but her blanket was on the Bus, and so it was gone. _You don't need it_ , she told herself, _You're a big girl_ but the truth was, she felt frayed at the edges, small and anxious and frightened. 

If they'd still be on the plane she could have sneaked into Daddy's—Coulson's—bed and cuddled up with him, and he would have made her feel safe. But she was sharing a motel room with Jemma and Leo, and Coulson was sharing a room with May, and she had to keep herself together. They were all grown-ups here, she couldn't revert to her little self. 

_You're a big girl_ , she told herself again, but it didn't make her feel any bigger or safer. Jemma was asleep on her stomach; Leo, next to her, was reading a book. They looked comfortable together, and safe, and Skye wanted to burst into tears. 

If Leo wasn't here, she could curl up with Jemma, because Jemma understood,. But Jemma was asleep, and apparently Jemma didn't feel little at all—it was just Skye who was stupid and useless and vulnerable. 

Skye dug her fingers into her palms so she wouldn't cry. She rolled over in bed so she was facing the wall and stuck her thumb into her mouth, hooking her fingers over her nose. It helped a little. Tears leaked out of her eyes, but she didn't make a sound. She tried to imagine the pillow was really Daddy's chest, and his arms were around her. 

She drifted off eventually, but when she woke up she was cold and trembling. She'd been dreaming about Ward: Ward's big hands grabbing her and trapping her and she was so alone, in the bunker all by herself and Ward might kill her. _Daddy_ , she thought. She gripped the blanket and sat up and that was when she realised—she was wet too, she'd wet the bed, her pants sticking to her skin, wet and cold and clammy, and the sheets were soaked through. 

She didn't know what to do. She was little and she wanted Daddy to fix it, but he was far away. She looked over at Jemma. Jemma understood, and she'd be sympathetic—maybe she could wake her? But she didn't want Jemma, she wanted _Daddy,_ she needed someone to look after her. 

Skye slid her legs out of the bed. Her wet pants stuck to her, and she was afraid she'd wake Leo when she walked past But she needed Daddy. She stuck her thumb back into her mouth, sucking fiercely. Daddy would make everything OK. 

She crept to the adjoining door. The room was big and dim, every shadow scary and threatening. She whimpered and leant against Daddy's door. What if he got mad when she woke him up? Maybe he wouldn't open the door and she'd be alone all night... 

Pressing herself up against the wood, she knocked once, softly, and then again, more forcefully. Her clothes were sticking to her skin and she was so cold and so scared and she felt like maybe Ward was in the hall outside and he was going to come find her. 

Daddy's voice. “Who is it?” 

“It's Skye,” she said back, but the words were all choked, and she was sobbing properly now, shaking against the door. She bit her hand, determined not to wake Jemma and Leo. 

It opened so suddenly Skye almost fell through, but Daddy's arms were around her. She pressed her face into his chest, crying, trembling against him. 

“I'm sorry,” she whimpered. “I'm so sorry.”

“Skye,” Daddy whispered, shutting the door behind them. “What's wrong? Why are you sorry?”

She sniffled into his chest. “I w-wet the bed, Daddy,” she said, burrowing into his arms, but worried at the same time that she might get him wet, too. 

“It's OK, it's OK,” he murmured, and sat down on the edge of the bed, drawing her with him, and she curled into his lap, sobbing, burying her face in his shirt, clinging as tightly as she could. She never, never wanted to let go. 

He was rocking her softly, and she heard him talking to May, but it didn't matter, because Coulson wasn't mad, he was holding her and looking after her and she wasn't alone any more. 

After a moment, she felt another hand on her forehead. “You need dry clothes, Skye.” 

It was May. May could make everything better too. Skye always felt safe when May was near. But at the same time, she felt anxious. She hadn't been little around May in weeks, and she worried maybe May was mad at her. She burrowed her face into Daddy's shirt. 

“It's OK, baby,” Daddy said. “May's not mad at you either. She's got some dry pyjama pants for you here, and we're going to get you nice and clean.” 

Skye slid her thumb into her mouth as Daddy gently disengaged her from his arms. May helped her out of her soaked bottoms, and Coulson rubbed her skin with a damp, warm towel. She was glad they were doing it for her. She felt way too little to do it all by herself. She wished she had a diaper to wear, something to keep her safe in case she had an accident, but there were only May's pyjamas pants. 

Once she was dry, Daddy gathered her back into his arms, and lay down on the bed. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. She fisted her fingers in his shirt. After a moment she whispered, “I'm sorry I'm little, Daddy. I know you need me to be a big girl.”

He kissed her forehead. “Don't be sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I don't want you to be any bigger than you feel.” 

Skye nodded. “Is May angry?” she whispered. 

“I'm not mad at you,” May said. “You stay there, where you feel safe.” 

“OK.” Skye nibbled at her thumb. “Can I have a hug from you, too?” 

She felt May wrapping her arms around her, from her other side, and Skye snuggled at close as she could to May, while keeping her fingers wound in Daddy's shirt. Between them, she finally felt secure. She could smell May's perfume on the sheets, and Daddy's pyjamas. The soft smells soothed her to sleep. 

When she woke up, she was shaky again. May wasn't there, but Coulson stroked her back soothingly, and sat up with her, brushing her hair back from her face. It was morning: light leaked in around the curtains, and they were alone in the room. Skye hid her face in Daddy's neck, telling herself she was safe, trying to make the nightmares go away. 

She wanted to stay clinging to Daddy forever, but, “I gotta go to the bathroom,” she whispered. 

Coulson let go of her at once. She shut the door of the bathroom behind her, even though it was a bit scary not to be able to see Coulson. After she'd used the toilet, she stared at herself in the mirror, looking at her big girl body and telling herself she wasn't really little. 

But when she opened the door again, Coulson was still sitting on the bed, and she crawled back into his arms, still desperate for protection. “I don't feel very big.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, his arms around her. 

“But I've got to be big. It's very important. We have so many things to do.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Look at me.”

She peeked up at him, and he said, “You've had a very scary time, and you need me to look after you. And that's OK. You don't have to be any bigger than you feel, I promise.”

Skye wanted to believe him. She sucked her thumb thoughtfully and said, “You can't promise that.” 

“OK, maybe I can't promise that for always,” Coulson said. “But when it's in my power to look after you, I will. And right now, today, we don't have to do anything other than eat breakfast, and maybe take a little swim in the pool later.” 

That sounded pretty good to Skye. She nodded. Then she said, “Daddy, Ward has my blanket and Jemma's special rabbit.” 

*

Skye's bed was wet. Jemma covered it over with the blanket so Leo wouldn't notice. Skye wasn't there—Jemma supposed she was with Coulson and May. Jemma felt a little jealous. She knew it wasn't fair, but she wanted to be able to curl up with Coulson and May too, and forget about everything. 

Instead, she took a shower like a grown-up. I'm not an Agent of SHIELD any more, she thought, staring at herself in the mirror. She felt anxious, her stomach queasy. She really missed the safety of her bunk, her pacifier, sharing breakfast with Skye and Coulson. The Bus had been home, and she'd finally started to feel accepted—and now it was all gone. 

Leo was awake when she came back into the room. “Where's Skye?”

“Not in the shower with me, anyway,” Jemma said, tugging her fingers through her hair. She'd have to buy a brush, and some other clothes. 

Leo rubbed his face. “I'm starving. I want a proper breakfast. Eggs and bacon.”

“All you're going to get here is a chocolate bar,” Jemma said.

“We can drive somewhere. Maybe Skye's getting breakfast right now. Doughnuts and coffee. It's not what I'm imagining, but it'd do.” 

“Skye's in bed with Coulson and May.” She felt her pulse racing, but she was glad she'd blurted it out. She didn't want to keep secrets from him any longer. Not now. 

“She's what?” 

“They look after her,” Jemma said, in a rush. “She wanted some affection. She calls Coulson 'Daddy'. Sometimes we cuddle up together, and I suck my dummy.” 

Leo was gaping at her. “You're joking.”

“Stupid thing to joke about.” Jemma folded her arms over her chest. “We're going to have to buy some more clothes, don't you think?”

“You... And Skye...” Leo chewed his lip. “I thought you'd grown out of that.” 

Jemma sighed. “I did try. But I couldn't. And Coulson doesn't care, and neither does May. They like me and Skye being little.” 

She tried to meet his eyes, but Leo's eyes skittered away. “I need to get dressed,” he said. “I need to...”

“Don't freak out. Horrible things have happened recently, but this is different. It's nice. It's positive.” 

“It's _weird_ ,” Leo said. 

“It's OK for things to be weird,” Jemma said. “It doesn't make them wrong.” 

Leo grabbed his jeans and went into the bathroom. A moment later, he was out, dressed, and he grabbed the Motel key from the tabletop. 

“Where are you going?” Jemma asked. 

“Out.” The door swung shut behind him. 

Jemma's heart was hammering, her stomach tight and queasy. She wished she could vanish. She wanted the comfort of her dummy, and Ben Bunny. She went to Phil's door, and knocked. “Yeah?” he called. 

“It's Jemma,” she said, and opened it. Coulson and Skye were on the bed: Skye had her arm wrapped around her knees, and had made herself into the smallest lump she could. Coulson's arms were around her. She looked over at Jemma, and held a hand out towards her. 

Jemma sat down on the bed next to them. Skye unknotted herself, and snuggled up against Jemma's side. She didn't take her thumb out of her mouth the whole time. Jemma hugged her back, and then felt Coulson's arm go around her shoulders. Coulson kissed her temple, but he didn't say anything either. She was glad. It was nice to be held, it was nice to have people who understood without words. Jemma's stomach was still tight, but her heart had stopped hammering in her chest. 

She shut her eyes, feeling reassured. She could hear Skye's thumb in her mouth, the faint, liquid sound. It made her miss her dummy even more. She'd tried sucking her thumb a few times, but she didn't like the feel of it. 

After a while she said, soft, “Coulson, I told Leo about us. I was sick of keeping secrets. But I know I shouldn't have told him about Skye, not without her permission, I...”

“Shh,” Coulson murmured, rubbing little circles onto her back. “It's good he knows. I don't want to keep secrets from him.”

“It's good,” Skye agreed, voice slurred around her thumb. 

Jemma stroked Skye's silky hair. It was tangled, and a little matted at the back. “I miss my dummy,” Jemma said softly. 

“I'm sure you do,” Coulson said. “We need to make a shopping list.” 

“I want my own things,” Skye said. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Coulson said, and then he let go of her, and went to get notebook from his pocket. 

He wrote

1\. Clothes for the girls (they can tell me)  
2\. Clothes for Leo   
3\. Pacifiers  
4\. Toys for the girls (1 each, they can chose)   
5\. Diapers / pull-ups  
6\. Toiletries 

“Anything else?” he said. 

Jemma fiddled with the end of her hair, “Toy for Leo.” 

“Do you think Leo likes toys too?” Coulson asked. 

Jemma glanced at Skye. She didn't want to keep any more secrets, and Leo's secret was stupid, anyway. “He has a monkey he sleeps with. We used to curl up together, sometimes, with our toys, and we'd watch cartoons. But a couple of years ago he said we were too big to do that any more.” She paused, nibbling her lip. “He'd hate it if you knew, though.”

Coulson coughed. “He'll have to learn a little vulnerability is nothing to be ashamed of. I'll talk to him.” 

Jemma worried at the hem of her t-shirt. “I'm scared,” she said, in a small voice. She pressed into Skye's warmth next to her, feeling more solid because of Skye's solidity. 

Coulson stroked back Jemma's hair, like he did for Skye. He didn't say they were going to be OK, or that she didn't need to be scared. Jemma didn't think she'd ever seen Skye so subdued, and that made her feel anxious too. 

Then Skye said, “Can we have pancakes for breakfast, Daddy?”

“I forgot about breakfast,” Phil said. “Are you hungry, too, Jemma?”

“I am. So's Leo—should we take him with us to get breakfast?”

“Yes.” Coulson went and got his suit jacket. “I'll go talk to him. You stay here with Skye.”

“I don't know where he is,” Jemma said. 

“I'm confident I can find him.”

When Coulson left, Skye sat up and scrubbed at her face with her hands. She looked tired. Jemma wondered if she should offer to brush her hair for her, but wasn't sure that was her job. 

“You were brave,” Skye said. 

“I wasn't.” 

“Yes, you were, it's hard talking about being little,” Skye said. “Especially to Fitz, when you weren't sure how he'd react.” 

Jemma stomach felt tight again. She wished she could look at Coulson like Skye did, like Coulson could fix everything. But she didn't have that faith. “It's mortifying,” she said. “Talking about this. But I'm glad we don't have any more secrets.”

“Me too,” Skye said. “Leo's going to be embarrassed, though.”

Jemma sighed. Leo's feelings were making her stomach twist. But at the same time, Leo's embarrassment seemed like a small price to pay for honesty, and for the comfort this brought. She squeezed Skye's hand. 

Skye squeezed back. “I wish I could go get pancakes in my pyjamas.” 

*

“I've already eaten breakfast,” Leo said, playing with the plastic menu. Skye wasn't sure what Coulson had said to him. He'd come with them willingly enough, but he seemed grumpy and subdued. _Grumpy_ was a good word, Skye thought, because it was childish, and that was exactly what Leo was being. He was clearly upset, but he was showing it in childish ways, like kicking the back of the car seat or pulling on Jemma's hair. Skye wondered if Coulson had got through to Leo's little side, and being vulnerable just made Leo mad. 

“You used to always eat second breakfast at the academy,” Jemma said. “Sometimes third breakfast too.” 

“I was young then,” Leo said. “A growing boy.”

He and Jemma were sitting across from Skye and Coulson in the booth. May had stayed at the motel to train with Tripplett—probably good for them to get used to each other's fighting techniques, Skye supposed, but she wished May was here too. May would make Leo behave. 

Jemma laughed. “You're young now.”

“What did you have for breakfast, Leo?” Coulson asked.

“Chocolate bar,” Leo said.

“I should make you have the fruit salad,” Coulson said. 

“Can I have waffles?” Skye asked, leaning against him. 

Coulson nodded. “Waffles with fruit and cream,” he decided. “And a glass of orange juice.”

Skye nibbled her thumb. “I'd rather have coffee.”

“Orange juice is better for you,” Coulson said, and Skye didn't really mind, because she didn't have to make decisions. She still didn't feel up to being adult, to figuring things out for herself. She needed Daddy's help. She wished she could climb back into his lap and suck her thumb. 

When the food came, Coulson cut her waffles up for her before she ate. He'd never done that before, even when she was sick, but Skye liked it. She felt the sense of calm that only came when someone else was totally in charge. 

Leo eyed Skye's plate suspiciously. “I'm telling you right now, I'm never going to let you do that for me.”

“That's OK,” Coulson said calmly. “I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. Skye is just feeling very little today.”

Skye nibbled at her waffle, and didn't say anything. Coulson sipped his coffee and said, “You doing OK, Jemma?” 

Jemma nodded. She was eating pancakes with bacon and syrup. She said, “This whole day is a bit surreal.” 

“The calm after the storm,” Coulson said. “It's always surreal.” 

“And the no secrets thing. I've been working really hard to make sure Leo doesn't know. And that I'm always... always grown-up. And the last few days have been so hard, and I've been so scared.” Her lips were trembling. Skye didn't want her to cry. She thought if Jemma cried, she might cry too, and that would be a bit much for Daddy. “I'm really bad at lying,” Jemma said in a wavering voice. 

“You don't have to lie any more, sweetie,” Coulson said calmly. “There aren't any more secrets.” 

Jemma nodded, and he reached over the table and squeezed her hand. 

Leo coughed, picking at his food. “What does May know?”

Jemma and Skye looked at each other nervously. 

Coulson said, “We look after Skye and Jemma. She knows you came out with me today so you could try to get more comfortable with all this.” 

Leo flushed. He stared very hard at his food. “May's scary.” 

Coulson smiled. “May isn't scary, she's just stricter than me.” 

Jemma wriggled. “She's scary. But I like her anyway. But don't tell May I said she was scary.”

“I'll have to tell May she's got the kids so thoroughly terrorized,” Coulson said. “Are you scared of her, Skye?”

“Uh-uh,” Skye said. She felt warm and safe next to Daddy in the booth. She was thinking that Jemma might play with her later, and that everything would be OK. “I'm a brave girl.”

“You are,” Coulson said. “And brave girls finish their fruit.”

Skye sighed, picking at the pieces of banana on her plate. The rest of the conversation washed over her. She wished she was small enough to get under the table and curl up next to Daddy's feet. 

After they'd eaten, Coulson got Jemma to bring Skye to the bathroom. It was scary being alone in the bathroom, even with Jemma there. Skye wished she was wearing a diaper so she didn't have to worry about getting to the toilet. She felt like Hydra might be hiding in every shadow, and she wanted Coulson there. She took some deep breaths and washed her hands carefully.

“Jemma,” she said. “Do you have bad dreams too?”

Jemma nodded. “All the time.”

“You can come into bed with me and Daddy,” Skye said. “It's much safer there.” 

Jemma twisted her hands together. “I don't know if Coulson would want that.”

“Daddy...” Skye swallowed and began again, “Coulson likes looking after people. Jemma, are you OK with all this? With me? Because I can try to be different...” The thought of working to be big was a bit overwhelming though. Skye worried at her lip. 

“It's better,” Jemma said. “It's much, much better than things have been for a long time. This feels almost like a dream.” 

“I know,” Skye said. She squeezed Jemma's hand. “Let's hope we don't wake up.”

*

Jemma got in the back with Skye when they were driving to the shop. It was maybe unfair on Leo to shove him up the front with Coulson—she felt like perhaps she should be working to calm him down and make this easier—but she'd rather sit with Skye right now. Leo had been looking at Skye like she was wrong somehow, like he could never understand her, and it made Jemma feel protective. Skye wasn't wrong, she was just vulnerable. 

And I'm not wrong either, Jemma thought. Because I'm like Skye. 

Skye sat in the middle so she was pressed up against Jemma's side. Jemma had never met anyone who sought as much physical contact as Skye did, but Jemma didn't mind. Skye was so innocent when she demanded hugs, so gentle—Jemma could only find it sweet. Besides, she liked the hugs too. 

“Are we going to have to live in the car soon?” Skye said suddenly. 

Jemma tried to imagine that. It would be horrid. “I hope not.” 

“No,” Coulson said. “Even if I can't figure it out, and I'm very smart, so I probably can, May won't let us sleep in a car.” 

Jemma could believe that. Even though she didn't share Skye's complete faith in Coulson, she couldn't imagine May letting them come to any harm. 

Skye slid her thumb into her mouth. After a moment, she took it out and said to Jemma, “It can be cosy in the car. Dark and safe. But then people come and bang on the doors, and I don't like that.”

“That sounds horrible.”Jemma sighed. “I wish we could just find the TARDIS.”

“That would be even better than the plane,” Skye said. “We could go to the future.”

“Or the past. We could change all the stuff with Hydra.” 

“That's probably a fixed point in time by now,” Leo said. “The Doctor's always saying that about the stuff you most want to change.” 

“It's a terrible plot device,” Jemma said. “It'd be a more interesting programme if they were blundering around changing history.”

Leo had a lot to say about that. Jemma was glad. She could remember long afternoons of marathon-watching _Doctor Who_ , how they'd argued over episodes together, how everything had seemed safe and normal. Skye leant against her, silent now, her thumb back in her mouth, and Jemma and Leo talked and talked. He seemed to relax as he said some completely stupid things about Daleks. 

He tensed up once they were at the shop. The place was vast, a bit overwhelming, like a Tesco on growth hormones, and Jemma felt tense too. Leo wandered towards the electronics aisle as Coulson led them towards the baby aisles. “Don't leave the store,” Coulson said. Leo muttered something incomprehensible. 

It _was_ kind of embarrassing to look at nappies with Skye and Coulson, but Jemma suspected Coulson was just trying to get the worst part over first. Skye was leaning close to Coulson, and Jemma walked ahead, looking at the rows and rows of nappies, with pictures of smiling or solemn babies on them. 

“These are Skye's size,” Coulson said, grabbing a package of pull-ups intended for older children. Jemma looked at them thoughtfully. Skye had said, once, that the diapers were humiliating, yes, but they made her feel safe, and small, and she never had to worry about accidents. Jemma didn't _think_ she ever wanted to wear them, but now she found herself wondering how it would feel. Would she feel little and safe, like Skye? 

Jemma shook her head. Now was not the time to think about that. 

“Skye, sweetheart, I think we should probably look for thicker diapers too, just for night-time.” Coulson said, scanning the aisle. 

Skye, next to him, twisted her fingers together. “That's probably a good idea,” she said. “Though I like to think I'm a big girl.”

Coulson laughed. “Big girls can have accidents too,” he said, selecting another package from the bottom shelf. It was plain white, and looked clinical and medical in comparison with the other, brightly coloured packages for kids.

They looked at clothes next. There were so many it made Jemma dizzy. She followed Skye, who was following Coulson, as he selected clothes for himself and Leo. Leo was still pretending he didn't know them. They'd walked past him—now looking at DVDs—on their way, and he hadn't even looked up. Rude, Jemma thought. 

She followed Coulson to the women's clothes section next. “What do you want?” he said, looking as perplexed as she felt. 

Jemma looked at Skye. But Skye was fiddling with her shirt, and kept bringing the sleeve up to her mouth so she could chew on the cuff. She didn't seem ready to pay attention to clothes. 

So Jemma did it, rushing through the rows of t-shirts and shorts and trousers. She selected basically the same things for Skye as for herself, just in different colours. It was too much work to figure out exactly what Skye would want to wear. Besides, it would be kind of cute: like Skye was her little sister, and was trying to dress like her. 

Coulson clasped her shoulder warmly. “Well done. Let's look at toys next.”

Jemma knew he meant it as a treat, but something inside her turned to lead. In the toy aisle, her eyes suddenly welled up, and she swallowed down a hitch in her throat. She _knew_ it was stupid, but she couldn't stop seeing Ben Bunny on the Bus, being torn up and kicked around by Ward. She missed him, she'd had him all her life. He was her constant companion; her kindest ally. 

“This is stupid, I'm sorry,” she whispered, scrubbing at her face. 

Coulson put his arm around her shoulder, and Jemma sank gladly into his warmth. “It's not stupid,” Skye said. 

“I just miss Ben,” Jemma said. “Ward probably threw him out a window.” 

Skye nodded, as though she understood. “You can't replace him. But maybe having someone else to hug would help?” 

Jemma looked down the aisle. She thought it might help, but at the same time, she just wanted to cry. There were so many stuffed animals, and they were all wrong. “There are too many.” 

“What if I pick one for you?” Skye said. “Coulson can take you to find pacifiers.” 

Jemma looked up at Coulson. “That sounds like a good idea,” Coulson said. “Don't you leave this aisle, Skye. We'll come back and get you very soon.” 

Dummies were in the baby section, near where they'd bought the nappies. There were too many of them as well: pink, green, with pirates on them, with flowers, with dinosaurs. Different sizes, different materials. Jemma reached for Coulson, and he held her hand. Gentle and steady. 

“Isn't it exhausting, looking after us?” she said suddenly. 

“No,” Coulson said. “Well, sometimes. Mostly, it's comforting. We should get a few of these. What colours do you like?”

He helped her pick out two packets, with two dummies in each. Just as they were leaving, she saw a couple of security blankets, fleecy on one side and satin on the other. She knew how much Skye adored her blanket, how fervently she looked to it for comfort. She could understand that Skye might not want a new one, but she still thought it might help. 

She pointed them out to Coulson. “Do you think she'd like it?” he said. 

They selected a pale green one, completely different from Skye's own. It was soft in Jemma's hands, and felt nice, though she couldn't really understand why Skye liked blankets so much. They didn't have a face or a personality, not like her Ben. 

As they neared the toy aisle again, Jemma let go off Coulson's hand, and ran to show Skye what she'd got. Skye looked small, standing next to a selection of dinosaurs, with a large fluffy tiger under her arm. 

“We found you this,” Jemma said, passing her the blanket. 

Skye nibbled her lip. Jemma thought for a second she'd hate it, but Skye examined it, and then rubbed the satin part experimentally against her cheek. 

Coulson appeared, pushing the cart in front of him. “Jemma! You can't run off like that, you scared me.” 

Jemma felt bad immediately, even though it was silly. She wasn't _really_ a child. She could run ahead in a supermarket if she wanted. But she found herself saying, “I'm sorry,” softly. 

Coulson gave her another one-armed hug. He really wasn't a very strict parent, Jemma thought. 

Skye, still holding the blanket in one fist, showed the tiger to Coulson, and a green dinosaur. “The tiger's for you,” she said to Jemma. “It's fierce, it'll protect you.” 

She'd never had a tiger before. It didn't feel like quite such a betrayal. Jemma asked, “Don't you want a toy, Skye?”

Skye shook her head. She was still rubbing the blanket against her cheek and between her fingers, like she couldn't quite believe it helped. 

They went to get some toothbrushes and collect Leo. He was hanging around in the book section and pretending he didn't know them. He was looking at a fantasy novel for teenagers, and Coulson put that in the cart too. 

“I got you a dinosaur,” Skye said softly, but Leo wouldn't look in their cart and said he was going to wait in the car. 

Skye grabbed Jemma's hand. “He's so grumpy,” she said. 

“He feels vulnerable, and he doesn't like it,” Jemma said. “Don't worry about it.”

“And he's very sad about Ward,” Coulson added. 

Skye brought her thumb to her lips as though she was going to suck it, but then pulled it away. She chewed on her sleeve instead. “I'm scared of Ward, but it doesn't make me like that. I think it's just his little personality. He's just inherently grumpy.” 

Jemma laughed. She knew Leo would hate that assessment. “I hope not.”

“Will you take Skye to the bathroom while I pay?” Coulson said to Jemma softly. 

“I don't need to go,” Skye complained. “I want to stay with you and help bag up our things.” 

Coulson put his hand on her shoulder, and lowered his voice. “I want you to try. It'll take a while to get home, and you're not wearing a pull-up. I know it can be hard for you to wait when you're little.” 

Skye twisted her hair around her fingers. “I need to go,” Jemma put in: she didn't, but it seemed like it might solve the argument. She understood why Coulson was policing Skye's bathroom visits—even when she was completely adult, Skye was always running to make it to the bathroom on time. 

Coulson was waiting at the front entrance when they were done, purchases all bagged up. They put most of their shopping in the trunk of the car, but Jemma kept her tiger, and Skye wouldn't let go of her blanket. Skye snuggled up next to her in the back seat, a bit too warm and heavy against Jemma's side, but Jemma would never push her away. She didn't think she'd ever wanted a sister: having two brothers was plenty. But it seemed like she'd ended up with Skye, and she liked it. Somehow, Skye being so little made her feel more OK about needing her dummies. 

Skye was sucking her thumb softly. Jemma picked up the tiger and made it nuzzle her throat. “He's going to eat you up!” she said in her growliest voice. 

Skye rewarded her with a giggle. “No, he's not, I'm his friend.”

“He has to eat someone.”

“He only eats people who are mean to us. What are you going to call him, Jemma?” 

“Jean-Baptiste,” Jemma said. “He's a French tiger.”

“Tigers don't come from France,” Leo said, looking around at them. 

“This one does,” Jemma said placidly. “What are you going to call your dinosaur?”

“I don't need a dinosaur,” Leo said, digging at the floor with his foot. 

“Yes, you do,” Jemma said. “Remember when we were at the academy and we used to have sleepovers? And everyone thought we were having sex, but we were just cuddling our toys and inventing things. And I told you I still missed my dummy from when I was little, and you went out and bought me one.” The words tumbled out of her, falling on top of each other. Being nervous always made her talk too much. 

“Well.” Leo stared at his feet. “We were little then.” 

“You're as little as you feel right now,” Coulson said gently. 

There was a long pause, and then Leo said, “Rory. I'm calling my dinosaur Rory.” 

“That's a good name,” Coulson replied. Jemma kind of wanted to hug Leo, but she settled for smiling at the back of his head. 

*

The sheets had been stripped from Skye's bed, but it was unmade. Skye sat on the edge of it. Jemma had put their purchases down on her bed, and was sorting through them. She undid one of the packages of pacifiers. Leo turned on the TV, flicking through the channels. “Can we go swimming?” he said. 

Skye rubbed her eyes. She thought about the bright pool, jumping into the water: it sounded nice, but really just wanted some time to be quiet, and hug her new blanket. (She'd never thought a blanket was something you could just _buy_. It felt weird to hold a different one, this one was too stiff and smelt all wrong, but it was better than not having one at all.) 

Jemma had slipped her pacifier into her mouth, but she took it out, and smiled at Leo. “We should go swimming. What do you think, Coulson?” 

“I'll come with you,” Coulson said, but he was looking at Skye. She really wanted a hug from him, she wanted to be in bed on the Bus, next to him, listening to the engines roar, and feeling safe and alone. 

“She needs a nap.” It was May, coming in from their adjoining room. She was dressed in her usual black, looking brisk and assured. 

Skye looked at her, grateful that she could see it, but felt she needed to protest. “I'm fine. It's the middle of the day.” 

May came over, and put a cool hand on Skye's cheek. “Take the kids out, Coulson,” she said. 

“I'm not tired,” Skye said, leaning against May, her thumb finding its way back into her mouth. 

“She's not going to wee in our bed too, is she?” Leo said suddenly.

“Fitz!” Jemma snapped. “That's not nice.”

“Well, is she?” Leo insisted. 

“She'll wear a... She has protection,” Jemma said. “But even if she had an accident in our bed, that would be OK. It's not her fault.”

“It's disgusting,” Leo said. 

Skye heard Coulson's voice, sharp suddenly. “Leo! Just because Skye is littler than you doesn't mean she's disgusting. I want you to apologize to her.”

She felt too little to cope with the tension. She shut her eyes, nuzzling as close to May as she could. Even though she knew they weren't mad at her, she still felt funny. After a moment, she heard Leo mumble, “I'm sorry, Skye.”

“S'OK,” she lisped around her thumb. 

May rocked her for a moment, and then let go of her. Skye watched as she found her a diaper and a pair of soft shorts. Leo and Jemma had been hustled out of the room by Coulson, and though she wanted to play with them, Skye was kind of glad. May knew how to be in charge. Skye wouldn't have to think about anything at all with May right there. 

She lay down on the double bed, and May helped her take off her pants and replace them with the diaper and the shorts. When May moved away, Skye grabbed her arm and clung on. 

“I'm coming back,” May said. Skye flopped against the pillows, pressing her blanket to her face. Much as the diapers were embarrassing, Skye was very grateful to be wearing one. It felt so safe against her skin, and she knew if she had an accident, it wouldn't matter. She didn't have to worry about getting to the bathroom; she was little, and didn't have to be in charge. 

May returned quickly, with a baby bottle in her hand. Skye hadn't seen Coulson buy it, but she guessed he had. It was slightly larger than her old one, patterned with cartoon animals. 

“It's just mineral water,” May said. “It's a hot day—you need to keep your fluids up.” She always said something like that before she gave Skye a bottle, as though she was very concerned about Skye's liquids, and this wasn't at all about comforting her. 

May sat down next to Skye, and Skye put her head in her lap. “Coulson got you a present, I see,” May said, picking up the blanket and rubbing a corner of it by Skye's mouth. 

“I still want my old one back,” Skye said. “Ward stole it.”

An expression passed across May's face, one Skye had never seen before. It frightened Skye a little. 

She nibbled her lip, and prompted, “My bottle?” and the look passed, and May stroked Skye's hair and touched the bottle's nipple tenderly to Skye's lips. 

Skye latched on, sucking slowly, and realised once her mouth was wet, that she really was thirsty. May always knew the best thing to do. Skye's looked into May's face—she looked more relaxed now, as though this was relaxing her as well as Skye, though Skye couldn't imagine why it would be. 

She felt her eyes drifting shut long before she'd finished the bottle. She kept sucking, comforted, and fell asleep before May removed it from her mouth. 

*

Jemma sat at the edge of the pool, dangling her legs into the cool water. Leo and Phil were bobbing through the water, chasing each other. Jemma could tell Phil was holding back, because he let Leo get away from him, and Leo wasn't much of a swimmer. 

She'd put one of her new dummies in her pocket: she traced her fingers over it now, feeling its edges. She'd really like to put it in her mouth, but she supposed that wasn't a good idea. She trailed her toes through the water. Leo was laughing, and so was Phil: it was nice. She hadn't heard them laugh in a while. 

“Are you sure you don't want to come in, Jemma?” Leo called. 

She shook her head. She liked swimming, but for now, she was happy sitting on the edge, letting her legs dangle, weightless. She wasn't sleepy, but she kind of wished she could curl up next to Skye anyway, and suck her dummy, and forget everything. May had ushered her out of the room along with Leo, as though her time with Skye was private. 

That was OK: they were allowed privacy. But sometimes Jemma wanted something of her own, someone to look at her like she was precious. 

Leo splashed water in her face, and she surprised herself by shrieking. She stuck her hands into the pool and splashed back at him, but he ducked underneath, wet all over anyway.

“You're a bad boy!” Jemma called. Leo poked his head up again, and sent another wave crashing towards her. 

“Be nice to Jemma!” Phil called, swimming down the pool towards them. 

But Leo didn't have to be nice: Jemma could take care of herself. Not caring she was still dressed, she leapt into the pool, and swam underwater, going for Leo's legs. He was easy to knock over, he staggered, flopped underneath, and emerged a moment later, spluttering. 

“Don't mess with me, Fitz,” Jemma said, looking at his reddened face. 

Suddenly Phil caught her around the waist, the buoyancy of the pool allowing him to spin her into his arms. Jemma squeaked, and he tickled her, fingers worming over her sides. She thrashed against his hands, and then felt Leo grabbing at her feet. 

She locked her arms around Phil's neck so Leo couldn't knock her over, and hid her face in his shoulder. Leo stopped trying to pull her over and started tickling her instead too. 

“It's not fair!” Jemma wheezed, laughing against Phil. “Two against one!” 

Phil hoisted her up and deposited her back on the side of the pool. “You've got your clothes wet,” he said suddenly, sounding surprised. 

Over Phil's shoulder, she saw Leo coming up behind him. He ducked underneath, grabbing at Phil's leg in an attempt to overbalance him. Phil went down, though Jemma thought he could have held his ground if he wanted to. Phil and Leo flailed, limbs slapping against the water, spray going everywhere. Jemma laughed. 

Eventually Phil pulled himself upright, and climbed up next to Jemma on the edge of the pool. “Truce,” he said. 

“Does that mean I win?” Leo said. 

“It means Coulson let you win,” Jemma said, resting her head on Phil's shoulder. 

“I defeated you both by my superior strategy,” Leo said. 

Jemma took her dummy out of her pocket to check it was OK. It seemed undamaged, and she tried to dry it off on her t-shirt, though that was basically a failure, considering her t-shirt was soaked through. She popped it into her mouth instead, just to be sure. It tasted a little weird, but it felt nice. Coulson put an arm around her waist, and she snuggled closer to him. He felt a little clammy after his swim, but it was still good to be hugged. 

“Hey!” Leo said, staring at her. “You can't do that here. Anyone could see you.”

“There's no one around,” Coulson said mildly. 

“Tripplett could come back any time,” Leo said. 

“Tripplett seems like a nice man, I'm sure he wouldn't overreact,” Coulson replied, gently squeezing Jemma. 

She knew she should take the dummy out, especially because it was upsetting Leo, but she hadn't had one in _days_ , and it felt so nice. The sun was on her back and Coulson was giving her a hug, and everything seemed, for a moment, like it might be OK. 

Leo squirmed, and climbed out of the water on Phil's other side. “It's embarrassing.”

“I'm not embarrassed,” Coulson said. “Are you embarrassed, Jemma?” 

Jemma shook her head. 

“There's no one around right now,” Coulson said, turning to face Leo, “And it makes Jemma feel nice, and safe. There's nothing wrong with that, OK, kid?” 

Leo shrugged, staring at his feet. “I suppose.” 

Coulson put his hand on the back of Leo's neck, gentle, fingers just touching his hair. Leo could've jumped away if he'd wanted, but he stayed still, letting Coulson touch him. “You'll get used to it,” Coulson said. “I think you might even start to like it.”

Leo stared at his knees. “I do like it. That's what I'm afraid of.” 

Jemma reached over Phil, and took one of Leo's hands. She took the dummy out of her mouth with her other hand, so she could say, “You don't always have to be alone, Leo. You can let someone else look after you, sometimes. It's OK.”

Leo sighed. His chin was trembling very slightly, and he looked smaller than usual, like he was under a weight he didn't know how to sustain. Coulson put his arm around Leo's shoulders too, and pulled him against his side. Leo went floppy, allowing himself to curl against Coulson, his head on Coulson's chest. On Coulson's other side, Jemma pressed against him, and kept her hand on Leo's. 

They stayed like that, feet dangling in the bright pool, until they got too cold. Then they went into Coulson's room to watch cartoons. 

*

She felt May's hand on her cheek, and May's voice, “You've been asleep for more than an hour now, Skye. It's time to wake up.” 

Skye didn't want to wake up: she was warm and safe, curled up against May's side. But May was insistent, making her sit up and open her eyes. “Tired,” Skye murmured, trying to snuggle into May's arms. 

“You won't sleep later if you sleep all day,” May said. She patted Skye's butt, and Skye realised for the first time that she was wet. She hadn't noticed, but now she ducked her head, feeling embarrassed again. 

“You need a shower. You're sweaty. Come on, baby.” 

_Baby._ Skye didn't think May had ever called her a pet name before. She allowed May to undress her, and bring her into the adjoining bathroom. May turned on the shower for her, and Skye stepped under the warm water, letting it wash over her. She realised she hadn't showered in a while. 

The water drumming against her skin cleared her thoughts, and she felt more awake. She rubbed her eyes with her wrist. Should I be big now? she wondered. They've given me lots of time to be little. 

When she came out of the shower, May was waiting to towel her dry, and then she guided her, still wrapped in her towel, back to the bedroom. Skye sat on the edge of the bed, and May picked up Jemma's hairbrush from the night-stand. 

“Your hair's so tangled,” May said, standing behind Skye. But she was very gentle when she brushed it: barely pulling at all. Skye couldn't remember her hair being brushed before, not like this. When she was a kid, people sometimes grabbed her and brushed it for her, but she'd learnt quickly to do it for herself, because they always hurt her. 

She felt May dividing her brushed hair into three sections, and then pull it back into braid. Skye wanted to ask her something, and in her mind the question began with the word _Mommy_. She felt it in her mouth, the shape of the word, but she couldn't quite say it. 

Instead, she murmured, “May? Should I be big now?”

“You don't seem very big to me,” May said. She finished the braid, and stood up to pick out a fresh diaper and t-shirt for Skye. 

“But we've got work to do,” Skye said. 

May sighed. She rested her palm, lightly, on Skye's head. “Tomorrow, you might have to be big for a little while. Right now, you just focusing on being good, OK?”

Skye nodded. She took May's hand, and let May look after her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-finale hurt/comfort

2009

It was cold out, rain spattering the windows. Leo wasn't used to it being cold at the academy yet—it had been summer when they arrived. He stood outside Jemma's dorm, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He knew she'd want to see him. He knew he shouldn't be nervous. But somehow knocking on the door made anxiety flutter through him. He wasn't sure why: Jemma was just a friend. 

But when she answered, he still felt a rush happiness. You're my best friend, he thought. And finding your best friend is a bit like falling in love. That was much too sappy a thing to ever say out loud, of course. But Leo answered her smile with a wide grin of his own. He couldn't help it. 

“Do you want to go over the organic chemistry assignment?” she said. “I've had some idea about the enzymes.” 

“It's a Friday night,” Leo said. 

Jemma looked unenthusiastically at the window. Droplets of rain were lit up by the street lights outside. “So you want to go out?” 

“God no. It's freezing. But the homework's not due for another week, and we could still have fun.” 

Jemma looked at her desk, like she thought organic chemistry definitely counted as fun. And Leo did agree with her, but really, they were in college, and he felt it was his duty to stop her from devoting all her time to homework. “Have you got anything to drink?”

“Tea?” Jemma said. “Orange juice?”

“Anything alcoholic?”

Jemma shook her head. “My room-mate left some gin here once. I could look.”

“You're a wild one,” Leo said. “It's OK, we can have tea.” He'd drunk beer lots of time with people from school, and he liked the way it made him feel warm and just a little bit daring. But at the same time, he didn't mind that Jemma didn't drink. He could show her, later. 

And though he'd planned, in his head, a different kind of evening, one that involved bars and a smoky night, and music: the sort of experiences he, a student, was supposed to be having, he preferred the evening they had. They threw skittles at each other, and watched old episodes of _Doctor Who_ , the really old ones from the seventies where the sets wobbled, and spied on strangers with Jemma's telescope, and ended up, laughing, side by side on her bed. 

Jemma was warm next to him, her hair tangled around her ears. He'd felt so lonely, for so long, even with his Mum, that it was only now that he wasn't lonely he finally realised how bad it had been. It was amazing how one person, one person's smile, could take away such a huge feeling. Should I kiss her? he thought, because that seemed like what he should do right now, but he didn't want to kiss her. He just wanted to lie next to her. 

“What?” she said, “Have I got skittles in my hair?” and he realised he'd been looking at her for too long. 

He shook his head. “You look all right.”

“Such flattery,” Jemma said, and he suddenly wanted to hug her, so badly, wanted to feel her arms around him. He couldn't remember when he'd hugged anyone other than his Mum. 

“You look sad.” Jemma touched his shoulder, and he felt the touch right through his skin, a sudden burst of warmth. He reached for her, afraid she'd think the wrong thing, and yet wanting, desperately, to be held by her. 

But her arms went around him, and she rested her chin on the top of his head. “It's OK, Fitz,” she said. “It's OK to want a hug.” 

And suddenly, everything _was_ OK. 

 

2014

When they got back on their Bus, Skye looked for Jemma's bunny first. She was sure Jemma would need it when she got back. 

Their bunks had been used, beds slept in, possessions kicked around, other people's things everywhere. Jemma's room smelt like someone's feet, and there were a stack of weapons on her bed. Skye looked under the pillow first, for Ben, but of course he wasn't there. She opened the closet, and saw Jemma's clothes had been thrown onto the ground and waded into a heap. 

Skye crouched down, pulling the clothes out, and smoothing them. Jemma always ironed her things so carefully. Skye was no good at ironing, but she thought maybe she should try. She tugged the shirts straight, trying to get the creases out with her hands, but she couldn't. When she found Jemma's pink sweater, she realised she was crying. 

She sniffed, trying to stop. Jemma and Leo had been through so much, and she'd been with May and Coulson the whole time. She didn't have any right to cry. 

Hands shaky, Skye folded the shirts, and found some clothes-hangers for the ones that were less creased. Someone else's black pants were on a shelf, and Skye threw them on the floor and trampled over them herself. 

Jemma's books were still in their box, and when she looked in the bedside table, Jemma's make-up bag with her pacifiers was still there, thought it had been shoved aside to make room for some Nazi's washbag. Skye threw that on the floor too. She searched in all the boxes, and beneath the pillow, but she couldn't find Ben anywhere. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, sniffing into her hand. She'd thought, somehow, everything would be OK—Jemma and Leo being hurt, the Bus being stolen, Ward—if she could just find Jemma's bunny. She could give him back to Jemma, and everything would be fixed. They'd be whole. 

Of course it wouldn't work like that. She couldn't even find Ben. Maybe they'd thrown him out. She took out Jemma's bag and checked the pacifiers. Touching them made her feel closer to Jemma. 

You don't have any right to be upset, she reminded herself sternly, but she had to hug her knees hard anyway, and rock herself back and forth. She could feel tears inside her throat, beating like rain against a roof. Jemma and Leo nearly died. She and May and Coulson and Tripp had nearly died. They'd had to go against scary men who'd wanted to hurt them so much. 

And Ward... 

Ward had said he was going to rape her. 

Skye nibbled on her hand. It was OK. May had been there the whole time. May would never let anything happen to her. But she'd _trusted_ Ward. She'd thought he was her friend, her big brother, her SO. And he was a Nazi and murderer. 

It was hard to sit here in this room that smelt like feet, this room that had been Jemma's, and where she'd felt so safe, and remember everything that had happened. 

“ _There_ you are.”

It was Coulson. 

Skye nodded, trying not to look like she was crying. 

“I thought you'd be in your room. I found this.” He held out her blanket—her own, old, precious blanket. 

She couldn't bear to touch it. Not when she couldn't find Ben. 

He knelt in front of her. “Sweetheart, what is it?” 

He hardly ever called her _sweetheart_. She must look rough. Skye sniffed and tried to make her face look normal. Her mascara was probably running. She didn't deserve his comfort, not when Jemma... 

Instead of being big and brave, she sobbed, and held out her arms, so Coulson could hug her. She burrowed against him, and he rocked a little, back and forth. 

“I'm not allowed to be sad,” she said in a small voice, to his neck. 

“You're not? Why's that?”

“Because much sadder things happened to Jemma and Leo.”

He loosened his grip on her so he could look at her face. He brushed her hair back, and rubbed ineffectually at her damp cheeks with his thumb. “You love Jemma and Leo, don't you?”

She nodded.

“Then of course you're sad. Why wouldn't you be sad?”

“But I don't deserve your comfort,” Skye whispered. 

“That's not up to you.” Coulson kissed her forehead. “You're my Skye, and I'll always look after you.” 

“Will you look after Jemma too?” 

“Of course.” He looked down, his face sad. “I think she'll need a lot of care.” 

“I couldn't find her bunny,” Skye said. 

“There were some toys in your room—maybe he's there?” Coulson took her hand. “Let's look.” 

Skye's room seemed to have been used for storage. There were a lot of weapons in there, and, thrown haphazardly on the bed, some of May's clothes, and Coulson's suits, and almost everything that had been in Leo's room, clothes and experiments, and a well-worn monkey. And under all of that was an old bunny with floppy ears. 

Skye grabbed him and held him like she'd known him all her life, like _she'd_ been the one missing him. “It's going to be OK,” she said to the bunny. 

She looked at the bed, at the tangle of weapons and clothes, and thought that there was a lot of work to do on the Bus. But somehow, that didn't mean much to her. She realised that since she'd been on board, even since before she'd been on board, she'd been thinking like her little self. Big Skye had been left behind somewhere. 

“It's very messy in here,” she said to Daddy, turning to face him, with the bunny in her arms. 

“We'll clear it up,” Daddy said. “My bedroom's tidy. You can sleep in there tonight.” 

She inserted herself back into his arms. “Is it OK if I'm little, Daddy?” she asked in a small voice. 

“It's more than OK,” he said. 

*

Skye arranged the monkey, Ben Bunny, and her elephant on Coulson's bed. She sat next to them, hugging both her blankets, and rocking herself a little. Coulson's room was neat and clean, but it had clearly been used by someone else. It smelt like an unfamiliar cologne and there were beer bottles and medicine on one of the cabinets. The Bus looked scarred, broken, unfamiliar. Skye didn't know what to do about it. 

“I found a room for Tripp,” Coulson said as he came in. “May's going to take off soon.”

“And we'll go get Jemma and Leo?” Skye asked. 

“That's what we're going to do.” Coulson went over to one of the closets, and searched through the bottom. He took out a pair of Skye's pyjamas, and a package of diapers. “I don't think they looked in here at all,” he said. 

Skye rubbed her blanket against her cheek. “I don't need a diaper, I'm way too big.”

It was a completely token protest, though, and Coulson knew it. “Lie down,” he said to Skye, and she flopped back against the bed covers, putting her thumb in her mouth. 

She let him undress her, raising her hips when he told her, and opening her legs so he could get the diaper on. She felt herself relax, a layer of tension she hadn't even realised she was carrying evaporate, as soon as the diaper was on. When Coulson reached over to grab her pyjama bottoms, she wrapped her arms around his torso, suddenly unable to wait any longer for a hug. 

Coulson made a little _hmmph_ sound as though he was surprised, but lay down next to her, letting her squirm on top of him. She settled her head on his shoulder, contained by his arms. Skye hugged her old blanket under one arm, her new blanket under the other. “Leo was just starting to be little,” she said, looking at his monkey. “He might be different now.” 

“He'll need lots of support,” Coulson said. 

“How are we going to fix everything, Daddy?”

He stoked her hair. “I don't know if we can fix everything. We just have to look after each other.” 

That felt like the right answer, but it also felt like an insurmountable task. Skye felt drained of strength, small and helpless. She nuzzled at Daddy's chest, smelling the cotton of his shirt, and sucked her thumb. 

Suddenly the engines roared beneath them. Skye locked her arms around Coulson. The sound was welcoming somehow, safe. May's voice over the comms told them to prepare for take-off. Usually they went to the couches and strapped themselves in, but now Skye and Coulson just held each other as the engines swelled. Skye felt the jolt as they left the ground and she tucked her nose against Coulson's neck, suddenly feeling much safer. 

They could fly again. They had their Bus.

Once they'd reached altitude, Coulson patted Skye's bare leg. “Come on, time to get dressed. It's not bed time yet.”

“Then why did you put out my pyjamas for me?” 

“You can still be comfortable,” Coulson said, handing her the cotton pants. She pulled them on—they were the stretchy kind, she felt like her diaper was probably visible underneath, and when Coulson handed her a t-shirt, it was a Miffy one. She felt very little. Usually May tied her hair back for her, but otherwise she felt like she was back to her little self. 

She nibbled her thumb. “Daddy, does Tripp know about me?”

“Yes,” Coulson said. “I talked to him back at the motel. He's not involved, baby, but he knows. He's not going to say anything if he sees you like this.” 

Skye nodded. She trusted Tripp a lot, but he wasn't one of them yet, and it felt a little weird to have him in her space. 

“Can I go sit with May?” Skye asked. She liked to be up there with May—they didn't talk, but it felt safe. She thought maybe the cockpit, at least, would be unchanged. 

“Of course,” Coulson said. “I have some things to discuss with Tripp. And I need to fix my office.” 

Skye carefully tucked her old blanket around the three toys. She felt like it would protect them. She picked up her new one—the silky green one Coulson had given to her—and her phone, and went to find May. 

It was loud up there, but the noise was steady, a constant rumble. She could stop hearing it. May looked over at her as she came in, and nodded once. Skye curled up in her usual space, on the ground between the two chairs, leaning up against May. She leant her head on May's thigh, and May stroked her hair. Skye shut her eyes, feeling May's hand on her scalp. For months, this had been the place where she'd gone to be safe—she was grateful that she could return to it. 

She sat like that for a long time, until her neck got stiff, and then she settled upright, still leaning against May's chair, and got out her phone. Her bigger self kind of wanted to check her email, but her little self won and she opened a zoo game instead, getting lost in a world of feeding pandas and lions. 

She wet her diaper a little later, almost without thinking about it. She was little and safe, curled up with a game and her blanket and May, and she didn't need to worry about holding it or going to the bathroom. The diaper swelled between her legs, warm, and that was comforting too. 

She was almost asleep when May stood up, and reached down to take her hand. “Come on, Skye, you need something to eat before we land.” 

And then she suddenly felt sick again, because she'd felt so safe and comforted, and she _shouldn't,_ she wasn't allowed to feel those things, not after what happened to Jemma. 

*

Until Skye handed her the bunny, Jemma thought she was OK. 

It had been hard, waking up on the plane, alone, and seeing Fitz, hovering somewhere between life and death, and that had been nothing compared to what had come before, those last moments in the tank, but she'd been OK. She'd felt distant from herself—she could see herself, a calm, competent Jemma, a little pale, maybe, a little shaky, but assured—and she'd congratulated herself. Awful things have happened, she'd thought, but you're doing well. Keep it up. She was proud, proud of barely crying, of remembering how to nod and smile, and then Skye hugged her and held out Ben Bunny, and she fell apart. 

The next few minutes were uncertain. She remembered Skye's hands on her, trembling, and then those hands being replaced by a steady pressure. She remembered a high, whimpering sound, and thinking that it sounded like a puppy, and then realising it was herself. She'd tried not to cry and she'd nearly choked on it. She'd felt like she was going to throw up. And then she was crying, and her mouth was full of saliva, and suddenly she wasn't outside herself any more, she was much too aware of herself, of her shaky legs, the ache in her head and throat, the tight bands of fear across her chest, and the hopeless, hopeless feeling inside... 

Then everything was blank, and there was a rushing in her ears, and when she opened her eyes again she was on one of the couches on the Bus. She could see bullet holes in the glass, little wounds all over the plane. She was gripping something in her hand so hard it hurt, and when she let go, she realised it was Ben, and he was squashed between her fingers, and suddenly she was whimpering again. 

She felt a hand on her arm, squeezing. Coulson. She remembered how Skye looked at him, like he could solve every problem. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and she covered her eyes with her hands because it was too much. 

“It's OK, Jemma, let it out,” he said, stroking her back. “I've got you.” 

I'm fine, she thought, I'm a grown-up, I'm coping... And then she held out her arms to him, and he hugged her to his chest. Skye cried often, she wasn't embarrassed, but Jemma didn't want to be like that. She was brave, the big sister, she could look after everything. But now she knew why Skye always went to Coulson for comfort, because he was so solid and so gentle, and he made her feel like it was OK to just let go. She fisted her hands in his shirt, letting herself cry and shake in his arms. 

He didn't let her go until she'd begun to calm down. She didn't exactly feel better, but she felt like she'd finished crying for now. Coulson handed her a tissue, and she moped at her face. His shirt, she noticed, was damp. 

She'd let go of Ben at some point, and he'd fallen on the ground. She picked him up now and cradled him against her chest. “I thought I'd never see him again,” she said softly, and was aware of how hoarse her voice sounded. 

Coulson touched her cheek. “A drink will help” he said. 

She nodded, and he went to the fridge. She drew her knees up to her chest. The room, though battered, still felt like home. Where were Skye and May? And Tripp? Had she scared them off? 

He passed her a glass of cold juice. It was apple, the kind Skye always drank. She sipped it: it was too sweet, she'd prefer a beer, but it was what he'd given her. He thinks you're little, she realised. You can't have beer if you're little. 

Am I little? she wondered. She was clinging to the rabbit for all she was worth. 

“Did I frighten Skye?” she asked. 

“She's with May,” Coulson said. “I thought we needed some time, just the two of us.” 

“What happened to my tiger?” 

Coulson smiled. “I think he's in your luggage from the motel. We'll find him.” 

Jemma shrugged. Did she care about her tiger? She supposed she did. She put the glass of juice on the floor. “I've been doing really well at being responsible,” she said. 

“I know. I'm proud of you.” 

“Have I stopped now?” she asked. 

Coulson touched her cheek. “I think it's very responsible to express your feelings in a safe environment with people who care about you.” He paused. “And if you're little, that's OK, too.” 

Jemma sighed. She felt shaky again, her throat sore. “Will I squash you, if I sit in your lap?”

“Absolutely not,” Couslon said, and tugged her into his arms. She'd seen him hold Skye like this, but usually he hugged her differently: put an arm around her or kissed her forehead. This was different—being held like this was littler somehow. It felt strange, at first, to be so close, and then she felt herself relaxing, leaning into his body. Her muscles went limp. 

He reached into his pocket, and took out one of her dummies. She didn't even feel embarrassed: she just wanted it. She hadn't allowed herself to want it until now. 

She leant towards it, opening her mouth, and he slid it inside. The bulb tasted slightly musty from his pocket, but after she'd sucked it a couple of times, it felt normal again. She felt herself making a faint, happy sound in her throat. She'd thought she'd never make a sound like that again, but apparently all she needed to feel content was a hug and a dummy. 

Leo popped into her mind at once, and she felt cold all over, her stomach turning to acid. She shut her eyes, leaning her head on Coulson's shoulder, sucking slowly. There were things she could say—I thought we were going to die; I thought Leo was dead; I was so alone—but nothing came out. There was nothing she could say that he didn't already know. 

She rubbed Ben Bunny's ear against her cheek, and sat up slowly. Coulson had said it was OK for her to cling to him like this, but she was afraid his legs would go to sleep. 

She took the dummy out reluctantly and said, “Maybe we should find Skye and May?” 

Coulson kissed her temple. “If you're ready, sweetheart. You can stay here as long as you like.”

Jemma stood up. She held out her hand, and Coulson took it, squeezing, and then she slid the dummy back into her mouth, and leant against him. 

Skye and May were in Coulson's room. Skye looked worried, a bit tear-stained, and she rushed to Jemma, holding out her arms for another hug. “I'm sorry I made you cry,” she said. 

Jemma squeezed her, and said, “You didn't. It's OK.” 

“I told you,” May said. She came over, and, to Jemma's surprise, hugged her too, holding both her and Skye. She let go quickly, but Skye kept her arm on Jemma. Skye looked really little—Jemma was slightly jealous, once again, that Skye could slip into the head-space so easily. Her hair was tied into two plaits, and she was wearing a white t-shirt with Miffy on it, and pink trousers. Jemma was pretty confident she could see the outline of a diaper under Skye's clothes. 

Jemma didn't want to dress like that, not really. But she did wonder what it would be like to be so obviously vulnerable, to trust people to take care of her so completely. 

On the other hand, she was holding a dummy and a rabbit right now. She probably didn't look particularly self-sufficient. 

She sat down next to Skye on the edge of the bed. Then she saw Fitz's monkey, Fitz's worn, ragged, precious monkey, and suddenly she was crying again. Skye's arms shot around her, Skye's chin digging into her shoulder. “We can bring it to him,” Skye said. 

Jemma shook her head. “He won't notice. He's...” but sobs took over her words, even though she thought she'd finished crying. She felt Coulson's solid presence beside her, and she leant against him, and tried to breathe steadily. 

She let out a long breath. “I know you've... got a secret base to explore. And lanyards to wear. But, um, can we watch a movie? I just, I...”

“What do you want to watch?” Coulson said. 

She didn't care. She just wanted to be close to them, with something comforting to focus on, and nothing scary in her head. “Skye can pick,” she said. 

May set up _The Lion King_ for them, and then said she'd be back later, but Coulson stayed, sitting on one side of Jemma, while Skye curled up on her other side. Jemma sucked her dummy and leant against Coulson, and her head felt strangely heavy, and she wasn't sure when she'd last slept properly and it was probably OK to close her eyes for a few minutes. 

*

Daddy and Jemma fell asleep before the movie had even begun properly. They didn't wake up when it finished. Jemma was curled up against Coulson's chest, her pacifier in her mouth, and Coulson had his arms around her, his head on one side. He was breathing slowly through his nose. Skye could hear a little wheeze at the end of each breath, even though Coulson swore he didn't snore. 

It was cosy next to them, but Skye wasn't ready to fall asleep. Besides, she'd wet her diaper during the movie, and it had already been kind of wet, and May would probably tell her off if she didn't ask for it to be changed soon. She went and got a new one from the stack of diapers in Coulson's closet, and grabbed her blanket too. She peeked out the door. 

No one was out there. She felt nervous, remembering they were at a secret base, that they were alone, and that she looked very little. It was weird going through the familiar rooms and seeing the bullet holes, and knowing what had happened. She pressed the corner of her blanket to her cheek. She thought of Ward, how she'd had to pretend she loved him, that she didn't know. She'd had to pretend so hard that everything was OK, even when everything fell apart inside her. 

At least she was a better liar than Jemma. 

When she walked past the stairs by the lab, the first thing she remembered was being cuffed to them. Ward next to her face, telling her he still loved her. She felt sick again, her stomach curdling within her. She squeezed her arms tight around her chest, telling herself she couldn't let a set of stairs frighten her. She kept seeing Ward's face next to her own, the sincerity in his eyes and his voice, the way he truly believed what he was doing was right. 

That terrified her. 

She hugged her blanket tight. Where was May? Skye didn't want to search the rest of the base by herself. 

And then May was walking up the hanger doors, as though she knew Skye needed her. 

“Is the movie finished?” she asked. 

Skye rushed over and pressed herself against May's side. “Jemma and Coulson are asleep.” 

May touched Skye's chin, tilting her head up. She looked into Skye's face. “You're tired too,” she said. 

“Am not,” Skye said. She squeezed the clean diaper in her hand. She definitely needed to be changed, but it was still hard to say. Silently, she handed it to May. 

May took it. “Good girl, I'm glad you let me know,” she said. Skye felt herself growing hot at that: May and Coulson had started praising her whenever she told them she needed a clean diaper, and that was a little overwhelming. Even though she trusted them, part of her was always waiting to be punished for having wet pants, like she'd been punished when she was a kid, and she didn't know how to cope with praise instead. 

May brought Skye to Skye's bunk, and they had to clear some of the clutter off Skye's bed before she could lie down. “It doesn't feel like it's mine any more,” Skye said. 

May brushed back her hair. “I know. We'll sort it out.” 

Skye hid her face in her blanket as May pulled down her pyjama pants. “You're very wet,” May said. “You should have asked to be changed sooner.” 

Skye squirmed unhappily. “We were watching a movie.” 

“Even so. You'll get a rash.” 

Skye nodded, but it was still difficult to be honest about this. She raised her hips so May could tug her pyjama pants back up, and then she sat up so she could rest her head on May's shoulder. “What are we going to do now?” 

“I'm going to train. You should come with me—you've been doing well.” 

Skye chewed her thumb. “Do I have to change?”

May smiled. “No. Those pyjamas look nice and loose. And you wear diapers so much now, it's probably a good idea for you to know how to fall when you're wearing one.” 

Skye imagined someone crashing in right now—Ward, probably—and trying to attack them, while she was here, little, wearing her diaper. It was a scary idea. But she just said, “What if someone sees me?”

May kissed her forehead, before standing up and pulling Skye with her. “What if they do?”

May had been helping her train since they'd been staying at the motel. Skye had been a little intimidated by the idea of being trained by May at first, but now she enjoyed working with her. May's training sessions were even more gruelling than Ward's had been, but May was so calm and Skye felt safe next with her.

She'd never trained with May on the Bus before, and it helped her feel like she was moving even further from Ward's influence. She didn't need him to teach hwe, and learning from May, she was becoming a better agent. 

May put down the training mats, and they went through a familiar set of drills. May was silent when she was working, but her hands moved firmly over Skye's body when she needed to correct Skye's posture or gestures. Skye relaxed easily into May's touch, moving where May told her to move. It was strange to do this when she was wearing the diaper, when she had a physical reminder that she wasn't just studying from May, she was also May's little. 

“Are you warmed up now?” May asked. 

Skye was panting, sweat on her forehead and between her breasts, her throat dry. “Are you kidding?”

May twisted suddenly, and Skye was on the floor before she knew what had happened. “You never, ever remember to guard your left side,” May said, looking down at her. “What are you going to do now?” 

Skye tried to get back on her feet, but May was on her other side at once, knocking her arm from under her. She caught Skye's shoulder so she didn't fall awkwardly. “You're still not guarding.”

“I don't know how it's possible to notice you. Are you sure you don't have superpowers?” 

“Again,” May said, and she showed Skye how to twist herself off the floor and now allow herself to be knocked back off her feet. 

She kept making her repeat the move, going on and on about muscle memory, until Skye's whole body seemed to ache. Her shoulders throbbed and she wanted May to look after her again, instead of being this tireless, relentless teacher. 

The next time she squirmed out of May's grip, she rolled over, and instead of repeating the movement she'd been shown, she slid her left hand down and managed to tickle May just about her left hip. Skye felt May's muscles twitch, and saw a ghost of a smile on May's face, before she gripped Skye's hand and pushed it back on the mat. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to win,” Skye said, and this time when she tried to squirm away, May let her. She slid her hands over May's warm sides, and ran her fingers over May's ribs. May remained stoic, looking down at her. 

“You really want to test me?” she said, and then she launched herself at Skye, fingers finding all the most ticklish spots on Skye's sides and under her arms and above her hips, until Skye was spluttering desperately, trying to wriggle away from May's insistent grasp. 

“OK, OK,” Skye tried to say, but it sounded more like a gasp. “I never win, I know.” 

May stopped, and flopped down next to Skye on the mat. Skye looked over at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling. 

“You can win,” May said. “Just not against me.” 

Skye snaked her hand over, and danced her fingers over May's arm. May caught her hand, and laughed a little. “You really want to keep trying?”

Skye shook her head. She squirmed closer to May. May was flushed, and she looked relaxed—Skye had never seen her quite like that before. 

Skye leant rested her chin on May's shoulder. She felt sticky from the fight and she needed a drink, but she suddenly felt happy, glowing from the work-out, and safe. “You're the best, Mommy,” she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them. 

May froze, and then her smile grew broader. She brushed her fingers tenderly through Skye's hair. “You too, baby,” she said. “Come on, let's get washed up.” 

*

Jemma woke to the weight of Coulson's arm, the sound of his breath. It took her a moment to register that was what the weight was, to realise she didn't need to struggle, that she wasn't trapped somewhere, in a cave or a mineshaft. It took her another moment to realise she was trembling, that her teeth had begun to chatter, as through she was cold, or frightened. She sat up, and Coulson sighed and seemed to wake too. He rubbed his neck and yawned, and when he looked up at her, his face became concerned. 

“What wrong, sweetheart?” he said, but she was still trembling, and she wrapped her arms tight around her torso and didn't know what the answer was. 

He kept his hand on her, but he didn't try to hug her or hold her, and she was glad, because she thought she might have to push him away, and she didn't want to push Coulson away from her. She shook her head, and reached for Ben, who was at the edge of the bed, and held him so tight she thought his seams might rip. 

“I don't think I had a bad dream,” she said, at last, when her jaw unclenched enough to speak. “I don't remember.” 

“Sometimes dreams can make you feel bad even if you don't remember them,” Coulson said. 

Jemma nodded. She fiddled with Ben's ears. She felt trapped again—not sure if she was big or little, not sure exactly what she was supposed to do. She left Coulson to go to the bathroom, and washed her face in cold water. She was still trembly, her feet cold on the floor, her head sore. Her stomach felt tight and hot, and she didn't know what she wanted to do, whether it was cry, or scream, or get really drunk. She used the toilet and then sat on the closed lid, nibbling at her fingernails. She couldn't seem to stop the tremors no matter how hard she tried. 

She stayed so long that Coulson knocked on the door and asked if she was OK. 

She opened it, and shook her head, standing in front of him, unable to keep her hands still. “I was OK until I got here,” she said, her voice choked up. “I swear, I was all right.” 

He brushed her hair back from her face, the way she'd seen him do for Skye, and he was looking at her, his face tender and concerned at the same time, and she was sure she'd seen that look on his face when he was talking to Skye too—and it was that, somehow, that was too much. That he could look at her like that, that he could care about her like that, after everything she'd done. 

She ground her teeth together. “I'm OK. I'm not little. I'm—I'm going to go do some work.”

She tried to go past him, but he put his hands on her shoulders. “What work, sweetheart?” he said. 

She pushed at him. “I just need to go and do something. I can't be here with you—I can't have you treat me like this, like a child, I'm not... I don't deserve...” she caught herself, putting her hand to her mouth, but he was still looking at her, intense, loving, and it was too much, and she choked down a sob, and it was _his_ fault she was crying. She drummed her fists against his chest, crying, her hands banging against his shirt, his shirt that was rumpled from her sleeping on it, and her head still hurt and it was too much—

Coulson grabbed her wrists. His hands were firm and steady, and she remembered, suddenly, that he was a field agent. He held her hands in front of her, and said, his voice calm, “Go and sit at the end of the bed, Jemma, for five minutes. You need to do some thinking.” 

“You can't make me,” Jemma said, her voice rough, but she was already following him, sitting where he gestured. “You can't make me,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, kicking her feet against it like a toddler, “I won't.” 

He didn't say anything. He just stayed, looking at her, completely calm, as though nothing she could do could surprise him. 

She kicked the bed, and then punched it, rocking back and forth, digging her heels in, her hands bunching the sheets. She rolled over and lay on her stomach and pummelled at the bed with her feet and hands, again, like a bloody toddler, but there were too many feelings inside her, she was too full, he kept being so kind and it was too much, and she wasn't holding any of it together, everything was falling apart, and Fitz's face was in her head, Fitz drowning, the sea was all around her and she was still swallowing it, swallowing and swallowing until her lungs would burst. 

Suddenly she wasn't kicking the bed any more, she was just limp, lying with her face pressed into the sheets. She wasn't trembling—she felt like wet spaghetti. She was crying and she didn't try to hold it in, and the sobs went on and on, racking through her body like they were never going to stop. She lay, letting it happen. From very far away, she could feel Coulson's hand on her back, a gentle pressure. 

At last, it seemed to ease, though she wasn't sure she felt better. The tears were less now, gentler, and she lay still, letting them pass through her. It was a long time before she sat up, and then Coulson was there, giving her tissues, and then getting a damp cloth, and washing her face with it for her. He was always so gentle, even though she never deserved it. 

She sagged against him, and he held her against his chest, encircling her in his arms. He handed her Ben Bunny, and Jean Baptiste the tiger, and she was so glad, she didn't even care that they were childish. She lolled against him, holding them, and let Coulson slide the dummy into her mouth, and she sucked it slowly. It helped too. She was glad it made her unable to speak, because she didn't feel up to talking right now. She didn't feel up to anything. She just flopped against Coulson, letting him hold her. 

When words came, they seemed to be from far away, too. She felt small, a different Jemma, like the storm of feelings inside her had changed something. It was OK to be weak, to need Coulson. She was doing what she needed. She thought about Skye and remembered how much she respected Skye, and how Skye could be so little and yet do so much. There were worse people to emulate. 

When she spoke, all she said was, “I'm sorry I wasn't a good girl.” 

Coulson kissed her temple. “You're always good,” he said. Her touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, as though she was fragile and might break. “You must be thirsty.”

Jemma nodded. “I've got a headache,” she said. 

“Wait here,” he said, and when he let her go, she flopped back against the pillows, exhausted all over, as though she hadn't just spent the last few hours asleep. 

He came back with iced water and aspirin, and a packet of ginger biscuits, and it was all exactly what Jemma wanted, and she wondered how he knew. She drank the water very slowly, and took the aspirin, and when the pills caught in her throat, she wanted to cough and complain because the little pain was somehow too much, but she just sighed, and Couslon put his arm around her again. 

They ate ginger snaps in silence, aside from the crunches. “I do get jealous of Skye sometimes,” Jemma said after a long pause. “Now now but... sometimes. She's so good at being little.” 

Coulson played with Jean-Baptiste's tail, running it over Jemma's arm. “It's not something you can be good or bad at. I know Skye and I have spent more time together than you and I, but that doesn't mean I care for you any less, or that I don't want to look after you. You understand that, don't you?” 

Jemma shrugged. “If I were you, I'd want to look after Skye more.” 

“Why's that?” 

She ducked her head. She was glad she'd cried so much, she was all out of tears now. “Skye's much better than me. I'm so... I'm so... I don't deserve this. I feel so guilty for wanting it.” 

“Skye said the same thing to me, you know that?” Coulson said. “She said she didn't deserve to be little and have me look after her, because you and Leo had been through so much. Do you agree with her?”

Jemma shook her head slowly, surprised. She curled closer to Phil, tucking her head underneath his chin. 

“Then let me look after both of you, OK, Jemma? There are enough bad things in the world without you making yourself feel bad for being little, for something you can't control, and something that isn't bad.” 

Coulson sounded so firm as he said those words, as if he'd get angry if she disagreed with him. It made her feel strange, to hear him tell her he wanted her, and that she was OK just the way she was, especially with so much passion. It was almost too much. She turned, hiding her face in his shirt, like she'd hidden her face in Skye's hair the first time Coulson had seen her with a dummy. “OK,” she said very softly, and put her dummy back in her mouth, and let him hold her. 

*

They didn't leave the room much that evening. She was too tired, too drained of everything to do anything but suck her dummy and watch TV and hug Phil and her toys. Phil hardly left her alone, which surprised her. She was sure there were things he needed to do. 

She did go with Coulson to see Leo. He was in the medical wing of the complex, looked after by Fury's doctor and a state-of-the-art life support system. Jemma brought the monkey, since Skye had wanted him to have it. She set it next to his bed, where he could see it if he turned his head. Maybe having something familiar nearby would help—what did she know? 

She heard Phil draw in his breath when he entered the room. Jemma didn't say anything. She'd been sitting with Leo for hours, talking to him, not talking to him, holding his hand, waiting, hoping. She didn't think he looked that bad. It was only his lack of response to her that was frightening. 

“I'm sorry I was gone so long,” she said softly, and bent to kiss his forehead. The abrasions on his face were healing slowly. “Phil's here—and May and Skye will visit soon.”

“Can he hear you?” Coulson asked. 

“I don't know.” Jemma fussed with Fitz's sheets. There wasn't anything medical she could do—she wished there were. “Some studies suggest that patients—that people like Fitz do have some sense of us.” 

Coulson nodded. He took Leo's hand and said some meaningless things about how Leo was going to get better, that everything would be OK. It felt strange not to be alone with him any more. She'd been spending hours by herself with him, but she and Phil didn't spend so long—it was harder, somehow, to be with him with another person who cared about him, and see an identical look of worry on someone else's face, than it was to be alone. 

When they went outside, Coulson hugged her and said, “It's going to be OK. He'll wake up, and then when he gets better, we'll all go on vacation somewhere.”

Jemma couldn't stop herself. “Tahiti?” she said. 

“Somewhere less magical,” Coulson replied. “Disneyland, maybe.” 

She didn't believe him, but it was still comforting. 

She wasn't hungry, but Phil brought her dinner when they got back to the Bus, and she picked at it. Later, there was a tentative knock on the bedroom door, and Skye came in, cuddling her blanket, followed by May. “We saw Leo,” she said. 

May and Coulson began having an intense discussion in an undertone at the corner of the room. Jemma could have listened if she'd wanted to, but she found she wasn't very curious. Skye sat next to her. “It must've been so scary,” Skye said. 

“It was.” 

Skye nodded, looking down at her lap. Her hair was escaping from her plaits and falling in her eyes. Jemma remembered Coulson saying that Skye hadn't though she deserved his protection and care either. She took Skye's hand and said, “I bet it was scary for you, too. I heard you were very brave.” 

Skye shrugged her small shoulders. “May let me have an ice cream sandwich,” she said, and Jemma supposed she didn't want to think about any of it. Jemma could understand that. 

*

Jemma had thought about going back to her own bunk, but she hadn't been able to face it, so she'd spent the night in Phil's bed. She slept right through. Recently, she'd been waking up often, frightened and wound-up, her body full of excess energy, but now she felt limp. Coulson was already up, wearing his suit, pacing. 

“Are you OK?” she asked, and he nodded, and smiled her, and asked her if she'd slept well, but there was something strange in his face. 

“I'm going to look around the complex,” he said. “I think there are some things I need to look into. Will you be OK? Why don't you spend the morning with May and Skye?” 

Jemma shrugged. He looked preoccupied, and she guessed he needed to go back to work. She felt vulnerable now, more little than yesterday somehow, and she popped her dummy back into her mouth, and held out her hand to him. 

He brought her to May's room, like she couldn't find it herself. She still felt tired, dreamy despite all the sleep, and it was nice just to follow him. She brought both her cuddly toys—the tiger and the bunny—and her dummy, and she felt properly little, wandering around in her pyjamas like that. Once she'd tried so hard to be professional, here on the Bus, but so much had fallen away. 

Skye was lying alone in bed, the sound of the shower running in the next room. “Are you going to be OK?” Phil asked her. Skye blinked at him sleepily. Jemma nodded. 

She settled down in the bed, in the warm place where May had lain, facing Skye. Skye was curled into a ball, her elephant and blanket held under her chin, and she smiled at Jemma. 

“Skye,” Jemma began, “What does it feel like, wearing a diaper?” It completely wasn't the question she'd been planning to ask, but somehow it seemed like the right one. 

Skye ducked her head. “Little,” she said, hiding her mouth behind the elephant. 

“Tell me,” Jemma said. “Come on, you don't have to be embarrassed. I know all your secrets.”

Skye grinned, a sudden flicker of older Skye in her face. “You _think_ you know all my secrets,” she said. She squirmed slightly, and rolled onto her back, “OK, well right now it feels wet. And warm.”

“Do you need to change?”

“May will change me when she gets back. I'm not responsible for that right now.” Skye rubbed a corner of her blanket against her cheek. “It doesn't feel bad though, when it's wet. If I wear it too long, it'll get uncomfortable, but right now it just feels warm.” She nibbled her lip. “This is embarrassing.”

“Oh, come on.” Jemma rolled closer to her, feeling daring. She leant her head on the pillow next to Skye, and fiddled with the corner of Skye's blanket. It was very silky, but she still didn't see the appeal. “It's fine.” 

“Why do you want to know?”

“I'd just like to,” Jemma said. 

Skye sighed. “Well, it starts off embarrassing. When I used to wear them at first it was just because I wet the bed. But they always feel so safe. I don't have to worry any more, about having accidents, about getting to the bathroom. And now that May and Coulson look after me, it's so comforting. Once I wear them, I know I don't have to worry any more. I'm little. They'll take care of me.” 

“You make it sound nice.”

“It is nice,” Skye said, rolling back over, facing Jemma again. “Maybe you should try it.”

Jemma felt herself blush. No, she didn't want to do that. She was a big girl. But she was imagining it: being little like Skye. Having Coulson take care of her. 

“Skye?” Jemma said. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Go on.”

“Do you poop in them?” She'd been wanting to know, but she didn't want to totally humiliate Skye. 

“Oh, God,” Skye covered her face with her hands. “No. Almost never. May or Phil takes me to the bathroom.” 

Jemma slid closer to Skye, and put her arm around her. “It's OK. I'm not judging you.” She pressed a quick kiss to Skye's cheek. “Thank you for telling me. You're cute, even in a wet diaper.”

Skye took her hands down and smiled at Jemma. “I'm cute _especially_ in a wet diaper,” she said. 

“No you're not.” Jemma slid her hand down Skye's side, finding the very ticklish spot above Skye's hip. “No one is extra cute like that.”

Skye squealed, trying to roll away, and ran her fingers over Jemma's ribs. 

When May found them, they were laughing, sweaty, hopelessly tangled in the bedclothes. Jemma froze, thinking May might be angry, but May flicked her damp towel at Skye and said, “Time for you two to get dressed.” 

Skye sat up, still giggling a little, her cheeks flushed. “I won!” she said. 

“I don't think it was a competition,” Jemma replied, searching around beneath the pillows. She knew her dummy had fallen out somewhere, but she wasn't sure where. 

“Looking for this?” May said, picking it up from the floor. 

Jemma reached for it, but May shook her head. “It needs to be washed first. Can you find some clothes for you and Skye in the closet?”

Some of the clothes they'd bought back at the motel were in May's closet, and Jemma selected some comfy t-shirts and pants for her and Skye. When she turned around, May had spread out a towel on the bed, and was changing Skye on it. Jemma stared at the white nappy, the way Skye moved her hips when May told her to. Skye was looking up at May, and she seemed so open and trusting, spread out naked in front of her. It was a tender moment, and Jemma felt like she was intruding. But it was hard to look away. 

“I was going to give you a pull-up for daytime,” May said. “What do you think?”

“OK, Mommy,” Skye said softly, and Jemma watched as May took a pull-up from a package by the bed. It was pink, and patterned with butterflies, much cuter than the plain nappy. Skye pulled it on herself. Jemma nibbled her lip: she felt fascinated and embarrassed at the same time. 

“Have you got my clothes?” Skye asked, sitting up. She wasn't trying to hide her pull-up, but Jemma thought she looked a little anxious. 

Jemma passed Skye her clothes, and they got dressed quickly. Jemma didn't bother going into the bathroom to change—it seemed silly, after what she'd seen of Skye. May handed Jemma her dummy, now cleaned, and Jemma popped it into her mouth. Until very recently, she would've felt embarrassed about sucking it in front of May, but now she just felt calm. 

They had fruit and toast for breakfast. May drank coffee, but she gave Jemma and Skye juice, and Jemma didn't bother argue to about it. She watched Skye nibbling off her crusts. “Phil said he'd take us on a holiday,” Jemma said. 

Skye looked up. “Why?”

“When Leo gets better.” Jemma paused, poking at her slice of melon. “If Leo gets better.” 

“A vacation isn't a bad idea,” May said. “We deserve some down time.” 

“I told Coulson that Jemma needed a vacation,” Skye said. “I told him that ages ago.”

Jemma hadn't voiced it—hadn't voiced the _if_ before—but she was sort of glad neither May nor Skye had responded. “Why do I need a holiday?” she asked. 

“Because you're little but you look after everyone,” Skye said, like it was obvious. “You need a break from being good.” 

May shook her head. “Jemma liked being good. So do you, even though you pretend not to. She needs a break from being in charge, though. That's different.” 

“We don't need to go anywhere for that,” Jemma said. She looked at her dummy, sitting by her plate, at the toast May had cut up for her. “I don't feel very in charge right now.”

May smoothed Jemma's hair back from her face. “A vacation would still help,” she said. 

*

Skye had seen Leo that night before. May had taken her. She'd felt lost, looking at him, small and helpless. She guessed it had been even worse for Jemma, alone with him, not knowing what to do. “Get better,” she'd said to him, and she'd been surprised by her own voice. It came out sounding firm and demanding, rather than caring. “Get better.” 

May had touched Leo's hand, but she hadn't said anything at all. 

They hadn't seen anything else of the bunker, really. Coulson and Tripplett were exploring it right now, Skye knew that, but she felt nervous. She was safe here with May and Jemma, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go and look at SHIELD secrets right now. 

Jemma was always quiet, but she was quieter than usual today. When May told Skye it was was time to train, Jemma came with them and sat, pacifier in her mouth, just watching, her eyes distant. Skye couldn't concentrate. She wanted to make things better, but she didn't know how. 

She said as much to May, a little later, when May was helping her clean up after their training. “Can I fix things for Jemma?” she asked. 

“No,” May said. “I don't know if anyone can, but it's not your job to look after her.”

Skye wasn't sure about that. She thought looking after Jemma was one of the things she needed to do. “But I want to. I want to make everything better.”

May hugged her. “Now you know how Phil and I feel,” she said into Skye's hair. “You can play with her, how about that, baby?”

Jemma was sitting on May's bed, not doing anything. She looked small and tired, and for the first time, Skye felt like Jemma was maybe littler than her. She thought if she asked Jemma if she _wanted_ to play she'd say no, so she said, “Will you please play a game with me?” and Jemma looked up, and sighed, and nodded. 

There were still some board games lying around. Skye's heart lurched when she saw Battleship, because she remembered playing it with Ward. She took Scrabble instead because she knew Jemma would win that easily. 

The first game was slow, and Jemma kept loosing focus. The pacifier bobbed in her mouth. Skye rubbed her blanket over her nose, feeling small and helpless. But by the next game, Jemma seemed more awake, and she even took her paci out so she could argue with Skye about the legitimacy of the word “xylem”. 

Skye was sighing, admitting “xylem” actually was a word, when Phil found them. He looked strange—flushed and excited at the same time. 

He took Jemma's hand, pulling her to her feet. “Leo's talking,” he said. 

“He's what?” Jemma looked suddenly pale. 

“Talking,” Phil repeated. “Come on, sweetheart.” He glanced over as Skye. “You too.” 

Skye wasn't sure what she felt—there was a bubble of something inside her. Happiness, she guessed. You're just not used to feeling happy, she thought. She took Jemma's other hand, to give her support from both sides, and Phil led them from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is complete for now, but I'm sure I'll be writing more in this 'verse. If you have any requests do let me know--provided you don't get mad if I'm not able to fill them.


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